Luminescence: After Dark
by HypnoticMemories
Summary: The sultry Bella Swan is swept up in a sea of lies, uncertainty and fraud from her past when she vows to clear her exes name in a scandal that rocked Forks. Now, reopening the case, Bella stirs up evil. Edward must keep her safe and keep his desire cool..
1. Prologue: So Lucky

*Some fanfictions of mine are gone :\ If one was your favorite, I apologize. This story is set in first person account; it is a new avenue in writing for me.

*There is no beta for this story. Mistakes will be made and overlooked. If it wasn't for a good hard cry, this wouldn't even be posted.

*Chapters will be every Saturday starting January 15th. This is just teaser chapters :)

*This story is for Kimmy, for being supportive and loving. ILY.

* * *

LUMINESENCE: AFTER DARK

[Prologue]

[One Year Earlier]

"I feel lucky today, Jacob. So lucky," I exclaim before sadness hits me like a roadblock.

The clouds hang low in the grey sky, rain dropping in small droplets among the desolated grounds around the mossy stone.

"I miss you," I say to the headstone, reaching out to touch the engraving softly.

I am kneeling in Forks cemetery, my mind nowhere but on the name itself. I came here today for peace, but seeing the grave never quite diminishes the emptiness that bubbles inside me. I reach down and pick up the blue vase filled with roses that I brought, and place it carefully on the stone, taking care that the name is not obscured in any way.

"I came to tell you something," I say because it made things easier. "I made a snap decision today. Call it a quick choice, but Mr. Cullen has offered me a job in Portland, and I took it," I wipe away stray leaves from the sides of the stone and sigh. "I know how you hate the decisions I make, but you always told me to go for what I want, and what I need. Well, I need this."

Tears stain my face as they fall unabridged. I make no move to brush them away. I sit on the grass now, my legs perched against my chest and my arms wrapping protectively around them as if to shield the pain and sorrow from penetrating my chest.

"I won't be able to come by here every week anymore," I say softly. "The trek from Portland is too long."

I begin to sob now. Knowing that you have come to the same spot for six months on the same day every week has a way of tearing your heart out. There was never a time, not when the harshest of snow fell, not when the wickedest rain sloshed, did I miss a visit. Sitting in the old cemetery now, the happiness of the job offer this morning was gone; replaced by a more depressing feeling. I stand, brush the dirt off my jeans and pull a picture from my woven tunic, kneel down once more to affix the picture to the side of the grave marker.

I say, "I know this is a happy time for me, and you had always said it was a happy time for you, too. I hope this picture reminds you that I am always here for you."

I wipe my tear stained face and touch the engraving once more, for the very last time. My fingers feel the rough carving, and my mind shuts off, unable to fully function in the sorrow of the moment. I close my eyes, and then, just as quickly as I had closed them, I open them again and sigh. I look at the name on the grave and begin to weep again.

JACOB BLACK

1987-2010

"Goodbye, Jacob. I love you."

I turn around and walk back through the stones of the deceased, my legs like jelly and my vision blurred with tears. There is not a day that I did not miss him. I often go to sleep crying and wake up crying.

Perhaps this new job would hold some peace for me. Maybe it would be just the thing to distract me from the months of sorrow and bitterness I felt. Maybe this job would provide me with support and love.

I reach my car and slide into the driver's side, my fingers shaking as I try to start the engine. Finally, after holding my wrist with my free hand, the key goes into the ignition, and I am cruising down Yardly Avenue, on my way across town.

I had to pack still, and there was no doubt that Nessie, my best friend, would be waiting to help. She is from Portland, and is offering me a place to stay in her big house in the country.

_I feel lucky today, Jacob. So lucky._


	2. Chapter 1: Bossy Boss

[Chapter One]

[One Year Later, Portland]

"You have until tomorrow to get those data sheets to me, Ms. Swan," he says loudly, crossing his muscular arms in annoyance. "It would do you well to keep on my deadlines."

I sigh, but turn to him and manage a fake smile. It would not do good to cross him. The job was already strenuous and depressing, and that would be the last thing I needed, was to aggravate him.

"Of course, Mr. Cullen," I hear myself say mechanically, no malice present in my words. "It will be on your desk before tomorrow, sir," I add simply to please him enough so he would leave my office.

"Good," he says, overconfident in his authority. "That will cut down on the wasted time it would take me to hunt you down and force it from you."

He turns from me without another word, and slams my office door closed, the small plaque baring my name cracking against the wood paneling. I look after him, imagining myself telling him to 'go to hell' or something equally satisfying, knowing in the back of my mind that I would never do that in reality. I needed this job. The year I have been here, I have made many friends with my co-workers, none of which were adorned with the name Mr. Cullen.

Edward A. Cullen was the owner and current CEO to the region's biggest telecommunications company, named after his father, Carlisle Telecommunications Technology, inc. Though I had no real idea of what they did as a company, the workers who would gather around the water machine would often guess; anything from spy equipment to internet equipment. Thank god for my brains, I looked it up on the new age computer sitting in front of me now. Edward Cullen's company dealt with wireless networking for residential and corporate needs. I, realizing it now, was his goat. Whenever anything bad happened, or he needed something done, he was put into "Ms. Swan" mode, and I was the escape. I have done many things for this man, and today, I was playing secretary and data sheet extraordinaire.

"Asshole," I say under my breath as soon as I think he is out of ear shot. "You big, hard-"

I stop, frozen in the position at my desk as I hear a knock on the door. I fidget, and then clear my throat.

"Come in," I say to the closed door. "It's unlocked."

The door opens, and I count all the 'please gods' that go through my head. Even though Mr. Cullen never knocked before, there was always a chance he could. Calling him an asshole, though it was very low, was a risk. He had ears like dog. He could hear Eric Yorkie laughing all the way from his office about a memo in his email. Yes, in case you were wondering, Eric Yorkie no longer works here.

"Nessie," I exhale sharply. "I thought you were Mr. Cullen."

I smile as the brown haired, fair skinned, rosy cheeked girl walked into my office wearing a blue blouse and matching skirt, her blue pumps clicking on the hardwood as she came closer. She smiles at me, her lips stretching from ear to ear. I turn and take the data sheet folder off my desk and turn to shove it in my briefcase.

"Mr. Frigid left for the day," Nessie tells me, her voice declining to hide the resentment she held. She looks into the open briefcase and frowns. "Another case load? Why is it always you? There are at least ten people he could make do with!"

I shrug. It was perfectly true; there were people more qualified and persistent then I was, but time after time, he came to me and made me do it. Quite a few times, the deadline was the very same afternoon, and when it was late, he was belligerent with me.

"I've come to the conclusion he hates me. The fact he is such a dick about it is an unwanted bonus," I tell her with a smile. "I really don't mind doing them; it is just the way he demands."

"Maybe he secretly loves you," Nessie teases, reaching over and pulling the folder from my briefcase. "Could happen, you know. Anyway, I came by to ask about lunch?"

I watch her flip the folder back into my briefcase uninterested and stare at me. I frown, realizing that I had these reports to do, and if Mr. Cullen caught me away from my office, he surly wouldn't be happy about it. Nessie, seeing the look on my face, clicked her tongue in impatience.

"He is gone for the day, Bella. Lighten up! You have to eat!"

I think on this for a moment, and then nod.

"Alright, let's go, then," I tell her, closing the case and walking around the desk to stand beside her.

"Oh, Bella the renegade," she smiles as we head out of the office. I lock the door behind me as we head to the small Indian restaurant a few blocks down. "I like this side of you."

It is an hour later, and I am telling Nessie that I will see her after work. I wave to her as she disappears down the hall and turn to unlock my door, but I find that the door is already unlocked. Striking me odd, I push open my door, and close it behind me.

"I could have sworn I locked it," I say softly to myself.

"You did."

I jump about ten feet in the air, then turn to my desk. Sitting in my chair, his hands propped under his chin and his eyes on fire, is Mr. Cullen. He extends his hand to the plush chair in front of my desk.

"Sit."

_Oh, shit. This is it…I am going to be on the highway back to Forks by nightfall. He is going to tell me my job is no longer needed._

"Mr. Cullen," I start to say before he cuts me off with a sharp look. I take the seat offered and try to drain the lump from my throat.

"I assumed you would handle those reports, Ms. Swan," he starts, his voice barely containing normal volume. "Imagine my surprise when I come to your office to give you the reports from last month, and finding your office empty."

I say nothing. Fear grips me like ice in the pit of my stomach. I look at him, his eyes a brutal shade of onyx. He leans forward and places his arms on my desk, intertwining his fingers together.

"I'm sorry. I went to lunch, sir."

I void his gaze like I avoid catching cold; fleeting and unsuccessful.

"Do I _pay_ you to go to lunch, Ms. Swan?" he shoves at me angrily. "Do I expect you to discard my paperwork like trash while you mingle at some fast food joint?"

"Sir, I…"

"I do not _pay_ you to take a solid hour for lunch when there is a deadline, Isabella!"

I stare at him. He has never used my full real name at any given time in my year here. It has always remained professional and never wavered from the standard 'Ms. Swan'.

"I'm sorry," I apologize. It is all I can say.

"You will not leave the premises for any reason. Is this understood?" He glares at me, and I feel close to tears.

I sniffle, but nod my head in agreement. "Yes sir."

"Are you crying?" he asks, leaning closer to get a look at my face. "Please, don't do that."

There was gentleness in that statement, so I look up, but his face as not changed. His eyes are a bit softer now, but the hardness has not waned from his features.

"Sorry," I say, as I reach up to remove the stray tears that are betraying me.

"Stop apologizing. It makes you sound needy," he replies.

He sighs, and then races his hand through his brown hair. He looks at me a moment, then stands.

"There is no way you are going to get all those sheets done by tomorrow, and I must have them. Michael Newton is coming by to look at them," he says, coming around and standing in front of the desk and me. "He wants to look at the books, Ms. Swan."

To my surprise, he lowers his hand for me to stand. I grab it and pull myself up gracefully as his eyes burn into mine. He half smiles, and then let's go of my hand as he frowns again.

"You look like such a scared rabbit. Did you think I would fire you? Why would I do that? I specifically asked for you when you were still in Forks," he explains, and I am in shock. "You really are clueless in a lot of ways."

He lets that hang in the air as he moves toward the door. He hesitates, and I watch as he turns back to me, his hand on the doorknob.

"Don't disappoint me, Isabella."

He turns and disappears through the doorway. I am struck silent, standing like fool in my own office. When he said my name, his voice was not hard. Instead, it was soft and gentle and full of some underlining emotion that I couldn't quite catch.

I turn on my heels and head to my desk to do some really quick fucking work of these sheets. I take them out of my case and open the folder, spreading them across my desk like a newspaper.

"I am so fucked," I say softly, looking at the numbers and numbers of sheets. I read the note attached to the front sheet:

CARLISLE TELECOMMUNICATIONS TECH, INC.

2010 AUDIT DATA SHEETS

32581-CA [NEWTON]

_A fucking AUDIT. I am so fucked._


	3. Chapter 2: Uncoding Codes

[Chapter Two]

_Tonight will be a very, very long night._

I turn on the computer and sit back. Relaxation is not in my future. I reach over and pull the folder from the briefcase and sigh. The computer whirls to life, and my desktop pops on screen, the disarray of icons reminding me of how disorganized I am.

"Alright," I tell myself. "Where do I start?"

I pull out the first expense data sheet I find, the numbers jumping off the page like a pop-up book on crack. I frown, and then place the sheet aside and grab the next.

It didn't make me feel better.

I realize, with a fruitful bit of disgust, that these sheets are beyond anything I've done before. These sheets were in the form of auditory itemizations, and so they were coded instead of summarized. I had no idea what was what, or what each code was for. I groan loudly, and push the folder aside. Mr. Cullen would not be happy with me. I will go in the office tomorrow, and would disappoint him to the very point of embarrassment.

I stare at the sheets for a moment, then, in a moment of despair, flick the entire folder off my desk and onto the floor. I was tired of playing his escape goat! I was hired to handle personal relations within his company, not be his fucking personal work cow. My eyes flicker to the computer screen, and the very reason I've put up with Mr. Cullen's crap stares me in the face.

My computer background holds a photograph; Jacob is smiling as his arms wrap protectively around me, and I am smiling, too. Jacob is wearing his work attire, and I am wearing a thin black dress. It was New Years Eve, and we had been at his office party. I reach out and touch the screen version of his cheek, the tears trying to spring their way out from the corner of my eyes. He was the reason I took this job; the reason I _wanted_ to take it. It was an opportunity that he would have wanted me to take.

I turn from the computer and fall to my hands and knees on the floor, beginning to collect the sheets that I had shoved angrily to the floor. I scoop them up and shove them back into the folder, then right myself and shove them onto the desk.

"This is going to be a very long night," I say softly. "A very, very long night."

I go to the window of the carriage house that Nessie allows me to rent from her and gaze out at the open pond in the back. It is beautiful here in the afternoon and evenings. When Nessie had offered the carriage house to me for privacy reasons, I took one look at the pond and accepted. The rent was fairly cheap as well, and it was far away from the main house, so when Nessie threw parties, it was still shrouded in silence and privacy.

Looking out at the water now, the sun was setting low in the sky, the clouds were thick and grey and ready to thin out to the night stars. A part of me hated this time of day, because I knew it always didn't last long. I sigh slowly, moving away from the window and back to the impossible task at hand. I am just sitting down to work out these forms that will never be 'worked out', when I hear a knock on the door.

"Nessie," I start, not for the first time. "This is your house, you know. You do not need to knock."

No response, just the continuation of knocks.

I groan like an animal, get up, and walk to the door.

"I said," I say, whipping the door open quickly. "That-"

I stop. It is not Nessie at the door.

"Said what, Ms. Swan?"

Mr. Cullen is standing in the doorway, his hand half-raised in a phantom knock. He is wearing casual clothing now; blue jeans and a white polo shirt. He smells heavenly, like a mix of old spice and soap. There is a thin smile on his face, no doubt drinking in my expression. He is looking at me, and I stand there stricken.

"Mr. Cullen," I say because I finally grew some balls. "What are you doing here?"

Maybe he has come to fire me after all? Or maybe he came to shove some more impossible work at me?

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asks, looking over my head and into the house. "I'd like to discuss a few things."

"Right, sorry," I reply. I move aside and wave my hand for him to enter, closing the door when he does.

He does not turn to me; instead, he takes in the living room area of the carriage house, his eyes finding the mess of sheets on the desk in front of him and shakes his head. Finally, after what seemed like a few moments of silence, he turns to me and cocks an eyebrow.

"I really didn't take you for the disorganized, Ms. Swan. I do have to say it is rather shocking," he admits, placing his hands in his pockets. "I also see you haven't progressed with those DS's," he adds.

I am fully embarrassed now that my boss is in my house, and even more shell-shocked that he has noticed my varying degrees of hoarding and haphazardness. I shrug slightly as he stares at me. I think he is waiting for a verbal response from me, so I clear my throat to speak.

"I'm generally too busy to put things in order, Mr. Cullen. About the DS's," I stammer out like an impotent idiot. "They are coded, sir."

He nods his head and smiles. He seems much friendlier in personal contact. This fact, along with the close proximity of him mixes with my emotions.

"And cue why I am here, Ms. Swan," he says, the smile drops from his face. "When I gave you the sheets, I hadn't realized that these were all coded."

"But you don't seem to have anything that could help me, Mr. Cullen," I snap at him. His visit seems to just be taking up my time instead of helping me.

He walks a few paces closer and looks down at me as I try to hide the fact that I wanted a do-over on that statement.

"I do have something that could help you, Isabella," he says, using my name as a bumper. "Me."

"_You?_ How can _you_ help me?" I am beyond skeptical.

"I happen to own the business in which you are working for, Isabella. I know every single one of those codes and what they represent," he says coolly, as if challenging my question. "And, if memory serves me right, you said you would have them by tomorrow."

"I did," I reply honestly.

"Looks like you need my help," he says. "I told you not to disappoint me. Prove to me you are worth my hire."

I sigh, but nod to the open stack of DS's I picked up from the floor moments ago. He looks at me before turning to the desk and picking up the first sheet on top. I watch in torrid fascination as his eyes scan the paper, his head nodding slightly every so often. He turns back to me and holds up the sheet, his lips in a loose smile.

"This sheet is all the equipment order invoices. The numbers match the sticker on each of the equipment boxes mailed out," he explains, pointing to the sheet. "You will have to make sure the totals add up in the right columns."

I walked over to join Mr. Cullen as he explained the rest of the sheets to me, nodding my head every time he asked if I knew what I was doing.

Two hours later, with all the sheets sorted and counted for, I lean back on the couch and sigh. Mr. Cullen, who is sitting on my right side, does the same. I glance at the clock, which reads six thirty-nine.

"I'm hungry," I say aloud, forgetting for that brief moment that I was not alone.

"I could cook us something," Mr. Cullen offers. "I'm good at cooking."

I turn to him and frown.

"But you're my boss…isn't there some kind of ethic violation for this?"

"It's just food, Isabella. We are not going to sleep together," he says nonchalantly. "Besides, I'm the owner, president and manager. My word is final on any of those charges."

I shrug, and he gets up from the couch and heads into the adjoining kitchen. I follow him and sit on a stool at the kitchen island. I watch as he opens the fridge and pulls out things to make a grilled cheese.

"Why did you come here tonight?" I ask while he is digging out a pan from the cabinet. "Why help me?"

He sets the pan on the stove and then shrugs. He thinks on it for a moment.

"Firstly, the coding problem was my fault. I had forgotten that you are not yet familiar with the coding process. Secondly, I know I haven't exactly been the ideal boss to you," he says, reaching for the bread on the counter. "I'm not as mean as people say I am behind my back."

"I'm sorry people feel that way about you," I murmur, trying to convince myself that I actually _was_ sorry.

"You apologize too much, Isabella. I only act like a jerk because I want my father to be proud of what I've built. Playing nice; playing the caring boss does not work in my experience. That is why I hired you," he says, heating the pan on the stove.

"Hired _me_?"

"Yes. When I spoke to your old employer about transferring someone to my company, I asked them for the nicest, kindest person they had. They sent you."

"Why those qualities?" I was totally interested in knowing.

"Because nice and kind people tend to suck information from people. You make friends easily, Isabella, I've seen it," he says, placing the butter side of bread down on the pan.

"I'm not following," I say, shaking my head in confusion.

"I don't expect you to. Sooner or later, you will understand the real reason I brought you to my company. Only then will you understand why I keep after my workers."

"I thought you hated me," I blurt out, watching as his face turns sharply to stare at mine.

"Hate you?" he repeats. "That is further from the truth, Isabella."

He says it with such harshness that I cringe back. Immediately, his features change and he becomes softer.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "You have no idea the boundaries of hate and love or where I draw that line. I don't hate you, Isabella."

I chew on that bit of information as he flips the cooked sandwich onto a plate and slides it across the island.

"My work relationships differ from my personal ones. When I am working, it is always one hundred percent business. You can understand that," he says, flipping his sandwich onto another plate and turning the stove off.

I nod at that and chew on a corner of the grilled cheese.

"Is that why you're hardest on me, because it's 'business'?" I blurt out.

He blinks at first, and then nods.

"Partly," he mutters. "And partly because I expect more out of you then the others, even Renesmee," he adds, sitting down across from me and lifting the grilled cheese to his mouth.

"How so?"

He sighs deeply. "Are you seriously asking me these questions because you are that curious, Isabella?"

I'm not certain what he means by that, so I play dumb and shrug instead.

He groans, puts his sandwich back on his plate, and looks at me hard.

"You are everything that I want in a worker, Isabella. You are obedient, kind, you don't decline to do workloads that are impossible," he nods to the finished DS's. "And you are incredibly pretty."

"Pretty?" I repeat, reeling at his words.

He hesitates, his face falling to his plate, clearly avoiding my eyes.

"Yes, pretty. You're natural attraction to make friends of your co-workers makes things easier for you, correct?"

He was good…really good.

"Oh," I feign, my eyes falling somewhere other than him. Two could play this game.

"That's not to say you are not genuinely pretty. You're stunning, really," he says after a moment.

The air gets thick with awkwardness. Suddenly, Mr. Cullen is standing, his eyes darting to his watch.

"Are you late for something?" I ask, knowing he isn't, but wanting to help him make his escape.

"Uh, yes, actually," he lies smoothly, his eyes finally locating mine. "Mr. Newton will be by my office in the morning, and as this is an audit, it will be stressful," he tries to explain. "Sorry to have barged in."

"No, I am actually kind of glad you did. Otherwise, those forms would never have been completed, so thank you," I tell him, watching as he walks to the door of the carriage house.

"I'm kind of glad I came, too," he says, and I do not catch the note in his voice.

He turns to the door and grips the handle, the muscles under his white polo flexing in response.

"Goodbye, Mr. Cullen," I hear myself say.

"Edward, please. Personally, you may call me Edward," he tells me turning to me.

There is something in his eyes, a reflection of something I don't catch until he is capturing my wrist in his grasp. My eyes travel nervously downward to his touch, soft and gentle.

"I know this isn't very businesslike," he smirks at me. "But would you be willing to accompany me to dinner tomorrow night? I could use some company after the whole 'audit or fraudit' meeting," he says, his eyes playfully widen.

"Edward, I…"

He immediately lets go of my wrist and stands awkwardly at the door.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I came on too strong, didn't I?"

I feel like shit right then and there. Had he let me get out my entire sentence, he wouldn't feel the need to be awkward. Without warning, I laugh out loud and touch my hand to my lips. He smirks, but his face hides confusion.

"Mr. Cul—Edward," I say, catching my mistake and correcting it. "I would love to go to dinner with you, on one condition."

He hesitates, then: "Alright. What is your condition?"

"It is strictly employer, employee. No expectations," I say.

After losing Jacob, there was no dating scene for me. There were no Saturday nights at clubs, or internet dating sites…I didn't even think about men much anymore. Losing Jacob was like the world crashing down on me, and my heart was too broken to be repaired in the love category. Perhaps, if the right man came along and made me forget, even if for a while, that there was a painful tear in my heart, then maybe my mind would change.

Edward's face fell slightly, but when he noticed me looking at him, he rearranged it and nodded.

"No expectations. You are my worker, and I am your boss," he says, though he sounds more like he is trying to convince himself of this matter.

"Right," I say.

"Fine. See you tomorrow, then," he says, opening the door and stepping out into the night.

I watch him walk into the darkness until he is no longer visible. I can still smell the Old Spice and soap in my house, and I turn, close and lock the door, and take a really huge fucking smell. It smells like heaven, but burns my heart like hell. Those eyes of his couldn't hide what was painfully written in them; there was a sense of why he asked me on a 'business date', but it slipped my mind as I looked over at the finished reports. Whatever. I would gladly go to dinner with him if it meant he would stop being such a dick to me at work. Hell, I wasn't even sure he would maintain his personal congeniality at work, or if he would continue to be a hard, frigid asshole.

I smile to myself as I sink back into the couch and prop my feet up. Instead of spending all night trying to figure out the sheets I'd never figure out, I reach out and flip on the TV.

Tonight was supposed to be a long, long night. But now, sitting on the couch in the whirl of the TV sound, the night seemed short…_since Edward left_.


	4. Chapter 3: In Stoic Nights

**A/N:**

**Because you guys were so sweet in your reviews, I have decided to post another chapter!**

**If you guys would be so kind as to recommend/spread this story if you do enjoy it, that would be awesome. No pressure, though.**

**Follow me on twitter: bittersarcasm_ (it was changed for a good reason!)**

**Those awaiting FAoBS update, you will have to wait. I'm still re-reading and changing things as I go.**

**As always, reviews are lovely, and I read them all!**

***No beta, so mistakes may be missed.**

* * *

[Chapter Three]

[In Stoic Nights…]

There is something loud being said behind his office door, but I pull Nessie along by the elbow and haul her into my office.

"Come _on_, Bella! It was just getting interesting," she pouts, pressing her hand to her hip. "_Some_one is having a rough day today."

"His conversation is none of our business," I say, though I wished it was.

Edward had been his office all morning with Mr. Newton. By the sound of the voices on the other side of the large double oak doors, it wasn't going well at all.

"I wish it was," Nessie voices my thoughts and then laughs. "Put some fire under old frigid, that's for sure," she says.

Nessie didn't know that Edward had come to see my yesterday. The gate to the carriage house was separate from the main gate, so he easily could be in and out without being seen. I, in all good common sense, had no plans to tell her of this visit, either. I flop in my office chair and swing it to face my computer.

"If you are going to be in here, Ness, you are going to help me do some work," I tell her, shoving half the stack of today's end-of-the-week spreadsheets at her. "You can highlight all the delivery signatures."

I hand her a bright yellow highlighter and get started on my own pile. After a few minutes of silence, Ness looks up and states emphatically, "Is _this_ what he has you doing? How _boring!_"

She sets the marker down and frowns. She always knows how to get out of helping me.

"If you finish that pile, Ness, I'll tell you a juicy secret," I sing-song to her. Her interest is peaked, and she picks the marker back up.

"It better be good," she replies.

I smile and continue on my paperwork. As I am on the final page of my stack, my phone intercom clicks on.

"Ms. Swan," Edward booms loudly from the speaker, "my office in five minutes. Do not be late," he growls, clicking off his side of the phone.

"Old frigid is on the prowl," Nessie mutters, striking off a signature violently.

"I better go see what he wants," I tell her, standing and straightening my black slacks. "He doesn't sound like he's in a good mood. Don't want to keep him waiting."

He sounds like he is back to his 'business' oriented self. His voice was full of stress and anger. I knew this was coming; after all, his meeting with Mike Newton didn't seem to go well.

I leave my office and walk down the hall to where the plaque on the door reads: EDWARD A. MASEN, CEO. I knock lightly.

"Come in," Edward replies gruffly.

I open the door and stick my head into his office.

"You wanted me, Mr. Cullen?" I would have called him Edward had his words last night not come to haunt me.

"Get in here and close the door, Isabella," he says, motioning me forward with his hand.

"Edward," I slip, and I can feel his eyes burn a hole through my face.

"It is Mr. Cullen in the workplace, Ms. Swan," he reminds me.

I want to remind him of the double standard he is imposing by calling me Isabella at work, but I keep my mouth safely shut. I clear my throat and shrug.

"Sorry, Mr. Cullen," I tell him as he motions for me to sit down in one of the tan plush chairs that flank his desk.

"Sit down."

I obey, my eyes trying hard to ignore his piercing gaze. I cross my ankles and place my hands on my lap. Eye contact is crucial, but only if you are sure your boss isn't going to rip you a new ass.

"You're wondering why I called you in my office, correct?" Edward asks and I nod.

"As you know, Mr. Newton came by here this morning to look at the books of my business," he starts, reaching for a folder on his desk and opening it. "He and I have never seen eye-to-eye. He wants to find mistakes in my books and take money from me should he ever."

I sit there and listen, not really understanding what all this has to do with me, but not wanting to voice my concerns until he asks for them.

"Was there a problem with them?" I ask nervously. "Everything looked fine to me. You saw them yourself."

"Oh. The books were fine. Mr. Newton was happy with what he saw. Actually," Edward says, closing the folder and pushing it to the side. "Actually, Mr. Newton had an interesting story for me during his visit."

He leans forward and claps his hands together, his eyes searching mine for a moment before he spoke again.

"It's typical protocol to tell the auditor who is doing the books for my company, you see. He seemed shocked to know it was you," his eyes glinted as I shrugged.

"I don't know him," I say, trying to recall his name in the back of my mind. "He doesn't sound familiar to me."

"He worked the books for awhile for Mr. Aro before becoming Portland's main Auditor General," Edward reciprocates. "He knew of Jacob Black, too."

My chest bursts in pain; Jacob's name leaving his lips is like a truck hitting me in traffic. I try to dislodge the feeling, but I can only gasp. I am going to be canned, fired; I know why I am sitting in his office now, and it only adds to the pain I feel.

"That never happened," I squeak out, my hand flying to my heart to try to suppress the inclining feeling of tightness.

"Mr. Newton seems to think it did. He told me about how Jacob defrauded the company out of thousands of dollars by cheating the books. Jacob Black was the head of payroll at the company, was he not?"

"He was, but he-"

Edward cuts me off and shakes his head. "Let me finish," he says.

I remain silent, but the wheels in my mind begin to turn, trying to figure out the best way out of this.

"He hid the money in special accounts all over Washington, and then falsifying the amounts to make up the books."

"What does that have to do with me?" I reply softly.

"You were dating him, weren't you?" He asks, his voice showing a hint of something undefined.

I feel the rush of tears come to the surface of my eyes, and I am unable to verbalize words. I can only nod.

To my surprise, Edward stands, walks around his desk and puts a strong, warm hand on my shoulder.

"You did the right thing, Isabella," he says softly, tapping my shoulder lightly. "Reporting him was the right thing to do."

"I never thought he did it," I struggle to say.

He says nothing. Instead, he turns to face me and squats down to look me in the face. His eyes are soft, and his hand comes out to lift my chin.

"We can discuss this tonight at dinner. I only told you this because I wanted you to know that I found the right person to do my books from now on. I trust you, whether or not he did it or he didn't, I don't know, but I trust you. Not everyone would tell on the one they love," he says, his voice is soft as he lifts himself to a standing position and lets my chin go. "Strictly as a working relationship, of course."

I hesitate. I am not really up for dinner after this revelation is dug up from the pits of the past. I sigh, stand and turn for the door. I am stopped by Edwards voice.

"I am sorry about bringing this up to you, Isabella. I know it's not something you like to talk about. If you are not up to dinner tonight, I will understand," he says, but his voice betrays him. "We could reschedule if you like."

I turn to face him, my eyes free of any betraying tears. I shake my head.

"No, dinner will be fine. I understand your position, Mr. Cullen. I want you to understand mine, however," I reply, reaching for the knob. "Jacob Black was an innocent man."

I disappear through the door before he can reply. I feel myself walking down the hallway and into my office, but my legs are like jelly and I am wobbling slightly as I reach my chair. Nessie is gone; the folders neatly stacked on my desk, but the gesture only tells me she has left them for me to do. I sit back and feel the tears sting my eyes and fall onto the oak desk.

I did not transfer here from Forks to be shrouded in pain; I came here to maintain some happiness, and try, just for a while, to escape all the pain that Forks had brought to me. Digging up old bones, old memories was something that I was unprepared for. Jacob was innocent, and that was the only thing that he needed to know. I would not share anything further with him about this, because open wounds never heal. I dry my eyes, open the folder on top in front of me, and start working to avoid thinking of old times; of the tables turning right inside my own mind.

-/-

I could feel his eyes on me as he drove his Coupe through the streets of Portland. We had not spoken since he picked me up at six sharp, his manner businesslike as he waited for me to finish getting ready. He told me I looked pretty, but that was as far as any verbal communication went. Now, coming up on Prangley Avenue, he sighs and turns his head to look at me.

"This silence is deafening," he says, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. "Mr. Newton was very impressed with your book work, Isabella. It's very hard to please that man."

I remain silent. I am denying his unspoken request to dive into my past. Instead, I have chosen not to speak to him at all during this unwanted dinner. I really had no right to be angry at him, after all, he was just ensuring the growth and safety of his company. Still, the stubborn part of me was taking over, making the reasonable side void.

Edward turns his head and curses softly under his breath. He turns into the parking lot of one of the fanciest restaurants in Portland, _The Twilight Bistro_. He parks near the front entrance and I watch in the rearview mirror as he jogs lightly around the back of the Coupe and opens my door.

"Thank you," I tell him softly. "I'm perfectly able to get out on my own," I add, noticing his hand offering.

He retracts his hand and scowls. "Are you going to be doing this all evening?"

"That's the plan," I say, watching from the corner of my eye as he closes his eyes to calm himself.

He leads me inside the restaurant, the music a soft jazz playing through the speakers, and the décor of a small Italian Bistro. He points to the maitre'd, who obviously knows him, and we are escorted to a private table in the back. When we are seated and the maitre'd leaves, Edward turns to me and smiles.

"Would you like to pick the wine, Isabella?" he asks, pushing a black leather menu toward me. "I'm sure what you choose will be fine."

I open the menu and start scanning it. I nearly gag at the prices of the bottles of wine printed neatly in ink. Most of these wines listed were more than my entire car!

"Something wrong, Isabella?" Edward asks, taking in my _what-the-fuck-kind-of-price-is-this _face. "If you don't like any of those wines-"

"No, no. It isn't that," I assure him, my eyes finding his amused ones. "Do you even bother to _read _these prices? This bottle of _C'Vele_ is more than my entire car!"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Sometimes you have to be willing to sacrifice for what you want or need."

"Yeah, but fifteen hundred dollars for _wine_? Water is free, you know," I tell him, shutting the menu and sliding it back to him.

"A pretty lady should never have to drink water unless she wants to. Do you want to drink water, Isabella?" He asks, reaching for the menu and opening it. "How about a nice Port Wine? That is the least expensive thing on here."

I can see him looking at me from over the menu, so I shrug. "Fine," I tell him.

"Good. Now that the wine is settled, what would you like to eat?" he asks, setting the wine menu down and picking up a white menu with the logo of the Bistro printed on it. "I suggest the stuffed chicken breast. It's very good."

"Sure," I agree. "That will be fine."

Edward orders the wine and food, and we are once again in silence. Edward taps his fingers lightly on the table and stares at me silently. I am in my own little world, thinking of ways to get out of this dinner, so I don't feel his hand touch mine until it is too late.

"Please don't be angry with me," he softly pleads, pulling his hand from mine. "I really, truly am sorry about this afternoon. I thought you had a right to know what he told me," he explains, leaning forward. "Whether or not this bit of news is why you are angry is another question."

I look at him sharply then. "What do you mean by _that_?"

He leans back in his chair and shrugs lightly. His eyes are impassive, and I groan loudly.

"Well, are you going to answer me?" I ask him impatiently. I can only bite my lip in agitation when he shrugs yet again. He is without a doubt infuriating me. "Why are you just shrugging?" I demand angrily.

"Why are you silent, Isabella?" he asks in return.

It clicks. This is his sick game to get me to talk. I look at him for a moment, and he seems amused. Quickly, as the waiter returns to pour the wine, I turn away and cross my legs angrily under the table. Soon after, our food arrives and I am starting to feel my stomach rumble. The food looks delicious, and as I look up, I can see that Edward isn't touching his plate.

"I don't eat until you do," he explains, pointing to my plate. "At least eat the meal. You don't have to speak if you don't want to."

I follow his gaze to my plate and sigh. "What the hell," I mutter, picking up my fork and diving it into the cranberry stuffing.

"Good," he says as I chew. "Now, since you allowed yourself the pleasure of eating, I will explain my earlier thought," he says, picking up his wine goblet and taking a small sip.

"Please do," I retort, picking up my own wine goblet and taking an equally small sip. "I'm _so_ curious."

He chuckles and picks up his fork.

"I merely am wondering if this little act of defiance toward me has anything really to do with what happened this afternoon in my office. I'm not a fool, Isabella, and I know you didn't want to come to dinner tonight," he says softly.

I set my fork down and lean forward, narrowing my eyes at him as he picks up a bite of chicken and chews. I try to decipher the oddness to his expression, but I am lured into his complex eyes. Behind the pupils of onyx, there is a glimmer there; a small fleck of emotion that I cannot place. I won't even try to lie to him, because he figured me out a long time ago.

"No, you're right. I wanted to skip this. I'm not exactly sold that this is a business type dinner, Mr. Cullen," I tell him truthfully. I use his formal name to emphasize my point. "And discussing my past isn't my idea of dinner talk, either."

He nods slightly and sighs. He leans forward, and we are inches apart at the table.

"You are right about that. This isn't really a business-like dinner. I only said it was because you wanted it to be," he replies truthfully. "If this was my call, this would be a date, and you would be enjoying yourself. As for your past, I will leave the option open for you to talk about it with me. You don't have to," he clarifies, reaching for his wine glass. "And call me Edward."

I am struck at his bluntness, so I stare at his lips as they taste the sweet wine in his glass. I sit back and pick up my glass, drowning the entire contents and setting it down noisily.

"This is wrong, Mr. Cu-Edward," I say, putting my head in my hands now. "Bosses don't go to dinner with their employees. Especially not ones they hate or despise!" I blurt out frantically.

There is a hand lifting my chin up, and a pair of onyx eyes that greet mine at my face's incline. Edward is lifting my chin, his hand warm against my skin, his eyes are serious and his lips are turned down.

"Let me correct the mistakes in that sentence. First, bosses go to dinner with employees all the time. Granted they aren't alone and aren't completely attracted to their employee, but yes, it does happen. Second, I don't hate you, Isabella. I've already explained this to you. Work is for business. I must maintain my character as your boss while at the company," he finishes, letting my chin go and sitting back in his chair.

"Completely attracted?" I repeat, my eyes widen and he laughs. "Where is all this going?"

"Relax, Isabella. Make you a deal," he spreads his hands wide over the table. "You tell me about your sordid past, and I will tell you anything you would like to know."

"Anything?"

"Absolutely anything. I would never lie to you, Isabella. Not even if the truth hurts you."

I hesitate, knowing that the things I would tell him would deepen the wounds that remained open in my heart. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.

"Okay, deal. I tell you about what happened back in Forks if you tell me what all this," I motion around the restaurant, "is all about."

He nods his head and smiles at me. "You first, Isabella."

"What do you want to know?"

"The simplistic version of what happened. If there is something you rather not share, I'll understand," he says, removing his plate from in front of him. The waiter comes back to pour more wine, then leaves.

I feel his eyes on me as I clear my throat and take a sip of my wine. I replace the goblet and tap my fingers on the thin glass at the stem.

"I had been working a year for Mr. Aro when Jake was hired," I start, and the pain of saying his name rips through me. "He got a job doing the payroll there, and I was the secretary for the company."

I raise my eyes and he is encouraging me to go on with his. I lower my eyes again and play absently with the napkin resting on the table.

"After a few months, Jacob and I found ourselves on the same shift. He once came to me when he needed some help, and we kind of hit it off," I tell him, remembering the moment well and replaying it back in my mind.

"You mean you began dating, then?" Edward interrupts, his lips a thin line on his face.

"Yes, you could say that," I reply. "He was very kind to me. I never had that before."

"You hadn't met the right man, then, obviously," he says, a small ghost of a smile on his face. "Go on."

"After a few months of going out, he started to act…different. He would come to my apartment and he would be paranoid, locking the door and frantically talking," I went on, watching him nod slowly.

"What did he say?" he asks, waving away a waiter who wandered over to refill the wine.

"Most of it was incoherency. He always would say 'he's tilling the accounts'. I never pushed him about elaborating on it because it never occurred to me that he was in trouble."

"'Tilling the accounts'? So he thought somebody was ripping off the accounts? But if that was the case, why didn't he tell someone, or you even?" Edward wonders aloud.

"Because he knew he was being investigated at the time, and he didn't have enough proof. He told me a week before he…before he killed himself that they were trying to catch him. He said he wanted my trust," I tell him, my eyes stinging with tears. "I gave it to him."

"Your trust? Did you think he was innocent?"

"I knew he was. Jake wasn't a thief, Edward. He was in charge of payroll, and he loved that job. They claimed he sliced peoples wages, took the difference and hid it in various accounts."

"If you thought of his innocence, why did you bring it up to your bosses?"

"Because Jacob told me to do it. He asked me if I was willing to lie for him. I didn't ask him questions because he never would have answered them anyway."

"Were you ever going to ask him face-to-face about his involvement?" Edward asks, his eyes try to penetrate into mine.

"Are you implying that you don't believe he is innocent?" I say angrily, my brows furrowing.

"That wasn't what the question meant. Don't you find it odd that he wanted you to confess to your employers, but still condemn it in private? What use is that?"

"I have a theory or two," I relent, watching as his smile returns to his face.

"Enlighten me," he replies.

"He was trying to protect me. Why else would he?"

Edward puts his hand to his chin and rubs. He looks as if he is thinking, but before I can be sure, he looks at me and nods. "Logical."

"Newton said he killed himself. Do you want to share this with me?" he asks, gauging my reaction to his words.

The lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. I think about telling him no, but change my mind when I realize I already told him more then he should know. I half-shrug and then smile sadly.

"Jacob never was the kind to want to burden other people. Part of me thinks he knew the authorities were closing in on him, and he kind of gave up. I actually went to his apartment because I hadn't heard from him in a few days," I hear myself say. I can feel the bubble in my belly grow with each word. "I let myself in and…" I stop, reach for my wine and take a heavy sip before continuing. "I called out his name, but there was no answer. I walk down the hall and into his bedroom, and he's…he's there on the floor," I focus out everything in the present and haul myself back six months ago, that horrible day. "I can see blood on the carpet, so I look down beside the bed and he is lying there…"

I feel a hand on mine, and I am zapped back into reality. Edward smiles and shrugs encouragingly. "You don't have to go any further, Isabella. I think I can gather the rest."

We sit in silence for what seems like weeks before Edward clears his throat and smiles.

"I believe I still have my end of the agreement to keep. Ask away," he winks at me and I can feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

"What is all this about? Bringing me here?" I ask, not bothering to hide the skepticism in my voice.

He laughs and shakes his head. "I knew that was up first. This," he motions around the vacant restaurant, "is my way of conning a date from you. You want to keep this business only, and I don't. It is as simple as that."

"You want this to be a date?" I raise my eyebrows and smirk. "Like a courtship?"

"Courtship sounds so old fashioned, Isabella. If you are asking me whether I want more than a business relationship from this, I will only say I want whatever you want."

"Why me?" I ask, and immediately his eyes flash anger.

"Why you? Why the hell not? You're a beautiful woman, Bella, and you have the brains to match. I have watched you everyday since you started at my company, and each day my fascination grew about you. I found myself passing your office on my way to lunch just to smell the Lily perfume you always wear."

"And the data sheets?"

"Confession time: I knew they were coded when I gave them to you. I figured it would be a nice ice breaker if I offered my assistance," he smiled deviously, and I can't help but smile in return. "And it worked to perfection."

"So then you're attracted to me?"

"Yes. Very much so."

I rush air from between my lips and mutter under my breathe. This was turning out to be some weird, fucked up dinner. Again, as if he had done this many, many times, his hand is under my chin coaxing it up so that my eyes locked with his.

"Are you attracted to _me_?" he asks in return, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. "I am so curious."

I look into his eyes and there is understanding and unprejudiced appraise in them. I don't know how my heart feels. It has been so long since a man has come along that I would be remotely interested in. What complicated this even more, was the fact that he was my boss.

"I don't know," I blurt out truthfully. "It's been so long since I've been with a man. Not since Jake…" I hear myself tell my personal dating information to my boss and I die a little inside.

"We can take it slow, Isabella. I am a gentle man…in most areas," he winks at me. "You don't have to give me an answer now. Let's just enjoy the rest of the evening."

I agree and he lets my chin go, sitting back and gazing at me absently as I finish my dinner and push the plate aside. Dessert is waiting on the table beside us, and Edward serves me, taking care to tell me what I am about to eat.

"Edward," I say as he settles back into his chair and picks up his dessert fork. "With all you know-all I've told you-do you believe in Jakes innocence?"

Edward stops mid action and stares at me. "If I tell you the truth, would you handle it?"

"So you don't, then?"

"No," he says, digging into his Crème Tart, "I do not."

We eat in silence, and when we are finished, Edward pays the check and helps me from the table. We are walking out of the restaurant when finally I break the silence.

"Do you believe in _my _innocence?"

He does not hesitate.

"Yes, I believe you. I think you were a victim of circumstance, and from what you have told me, nobody thought you had anything to do with it. I'm one of those people, Isabella," he tells me, opening the car door for me and closing it before I can reply.

In the next minute, he is climbing in the drivers side. I turn to him and really look at him in profile. He is handsome; his hair a tuft of brown on his head, his skin milky, and his features handsome. He is very intelligent, and runs his business with an iron fist, but, as he has shown me tonight, has a softer side.

The drive back to my house is just as silent as the drive from it, the only noticeable difference is that Edward doesn't seem to complain. Instead, as he makes his way through the downtown, he seems almost deep in thought. I think about what I told him over dinner, and I can't help but feel slighted that he doesn't feel as strongly about Jake's innocence as I do.

"What if I was able to prove to you that Jake was an innocent man?" I finally ask aloud, unable to contain the thought anymore.

"And how do you propose to do that, Isabella?" he chuckles, looking at me from the side of his eyes.

"Well…" I start, his question catching me off guard. "My father is the chief of police in Forks…I could start there?"

"Chief of police?" Edward repeats, shock in his voice. "And when were you going to add that bit of the story in, Isabella?"

He sounds agitated, so I simply shrug. "Didn't think it was that important. You asked about Jake and what happened, not me and my family life," I counter, looking out the passenger window now.

"So what now? You ask to see the case files on your ex-boyfriend, and then hope to find something to shove in my face and change my mind?" Edward retorts grumpily. "I thought only family of the person could view those?"

"I'm sure dad would not have a problem borrowing them," I say, motioning in air-quotations marks on the word 'borrow'. "Besides, Jake was like my family. He was everything."

"You consider a guy you only been dating a few months family?" He says a little too angrily.

"You consider a female employee that you have been sniffing after for a year, and then con into a date being 'very attracted to'?" I reply in an equally condescending tone. "At least I _dated _him! You sniff after my perfume and consider that to be attraction!"

He was silent, but I could sense the tension rolling off him. Finally, as we neared my house, he sighs deeply and turns to me, an apology expression melted into his handsome face.

"I'm sorry, Isabella. I didn't mean to make you upset. You're right, but it doesn't change anything I have said to you. I don't want you to do anything you don't want, and I certainly do not want you poking around in files that could cause trouble for you," he says, his voice calm and under control.

He pulls past the gate and in front of my carriage house. Shutting off the engine, he sits there in silence, and all I can do is stare at him. What can I say? Is this something I want? It already had a weird vibe to it, with him being my boss…The least I could do is thank him for dinner by inviting him in for coffee…

"Would you like to come in for coffee, Edward?" I ask, opening the door before turning to him again.

"It's not the coffee that I would stay for," he says, his lips turning in a smile. "I don't want this to be difficult for you, Bella, so I am going to say that I have to go, now," he turns to me, and the look in his eyes is one of hurt and rejection.

"Come inside, Edward," I press him. "It's not difficult yet, but you are making it seem that way."

"Really, Isabella. It's not a good idea to invite me in," he says seriously. "In fact, right now, that is a terrible idea."

Before I can react, he is pulling my face toward his with his palm, his eyes locking on mine in magnetized motion. I want to stop him from doing it, but I find my will is distorted with both the wine from dinner and the hypnotic waves in his eyes. His lips press lightly against mine, and I am dead in the water. I feel my muscles relax and slacken, and I find that my hand has unwillingly-as if it had a mind of its own-run absently through his light brown tuft. In true gentle pressure, my lips part and he deepens the kiss. I can taste the sweet wine still on his tongue and feel his hand wrap gently around the nap of my neck.

Edward's lips leave mine, and I moan a small protest. I can feel his smile against the corners of my lips as he presses small, chaste kisses on the corners. He pulls back and moves his hand from my neck to stroke my cheekbone softly. His eyes show amusement, and he smiles widely.

"I can still taste you," he says, punctuating that with a swift lick of his lips. "Sweet and pure."

My hand falls from his hair and presses on his chest lightly. "Edward…"

"I am not going to say I regret what just happened, Isabella. I don't, and neither do you by the reaction you had."

I look at him and all the things I wanted to say flies out of my head. Do I regret it? I don't even feel guilty about it. It felt right, even though it was sprung on me. It felt like the right thing to do.

"I don't regret it, Edward," I breath out softly. "I should, but I don't."

"Good," he says, bending down to give my lips another quick press. "Does this mean the date con worked?"

I smile against his lips. "Mhm."

I kiss him back softly, and then pull away. I had to get up early in the morning, and it was already nearing the time for bed.

"I would invite you in for coffee…" I start.

"That," he pulls me close and kisses my lips again, "is not a good idea. If I go in, I won't be coming back out tonight."

He kisses me once more and then reluctantly lets me go. I exit the open door and start to walk away.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow, Isabella," he says, a gleam in his eye. I nod.

I can feel his eyes watching as I make my way inside and shut the door. I hear his engine turn on and the car drive away. I rest my head against the back of the door and sigh.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I say softly to myself. "But I have to make you believe me."

The start of a new relationship only intensified my need to clear Jacob. I could not possibly move on with my life, with another man until I convinced someone else of the truth; of Jake's innocence.

…I even had to convince myself…


	5. Chapter 4: In Secret

_A/N:_

_*This chapter is one day early, so next weeks will be one day late._

_*Thanks for the reviews, lovelies._

_*Repeating myself...I am pretty grammar and sentence structurally sound, but I am human, and am betaless for this story, so mistakes will be overlooked..._

* * *

[Chapter Four]

[In Secret…]

I am running late this morning. I bounce into the building and forego the coffee station, heading right to my office. I sit the stack of manila folders onto my desk and hurriedly scan through them one last time before I put them in the 'out' box. Satisfied that they are complete and correct, I shove them into the small black box at the corner of my desk and sink into my chair. I reach for the phone and dial the extension, waiting for a reply on the other end.

"Nessie," I say when her voice greets me on the other end. "I am so sorry about this morning! I slept in a little too late and by the time I got everything together, you were gone." I don't elaborate on my lateness.

I listen to her as she assures me that all is fine, that she had something to do anyway, and insists I meet her for lunch in her office. I agree and we hang up a moment later.

I shuffle the papers around on my desk and straighten the binders, pushing them aside when I see it. A red, rectangular envelope sits inconspicuously under paperwork, a neat handwritten _Isabella _is written on its front. I smile to myself and tuck it into my desk drawer for later. I'm pretty sure I know whom the letter is from; the only person who calls me Isabella is Edward.

_Edward._

Just thinking the name sends a vibration up my spine. There was no sleep to be had last night, because I kept thinking of the kiss; the way his lips tasted, and the way he was soft and gentle in his touches. I also thought about his view on Jake, and how it made me feel. Knowing that he had no real sense of worth in Jake's claim that he never embezzled made me feel like he was doubting my truth, my self-assertion that he _was _innocent. It was very early, when the sun started to rise, that I finally drifted off into peaceful sleep. When the alarm whined, it was nearly eight thirty! I had hurriedly dressed in a black cotton skirt, white top, and matching black cotton jacket.

Before I leave, though, I make it a point to call my father, Charlie, and ask him about seeing the files for Jacob. His secretary, Ms. Stanley, said that he was out, and she would make a note for him to call me over my lunch break. Hastily, I gave her my cell phone number and rushed out the door, leaving my half-eaten bagel and warm coffee behind.

I sigh as I start on the pile of files in front of me. Getting to work late this morning was having its share of disadvantages. I immerse myself in getting at least half the stack done before lunch, and I hope that nobody else comes in with more. Edward, though I haven't seen him at all yet this morning, is surely lurking around, and no matter what happened last night, he would be less than happy if they were not on his desk by the time it was time to go home.

Fifteen minutes later, still firmly into the paperwork, my office door opens and then closes. I do not look up, mainly because it is usually only Nessie who walks into my office without knocking. I continue to scribble my pen against the paper as I speak.

"Nessie, I thought you said lunch? It's a little too early, don't you think?"

I smile and await her reply. None comes, but I see someone sit on the edge of my desk. My eyes travel from my pen to the face of Edward, who is smiling at me.

"Mr. Cullen," I say, startled.

He chuckles at my expression. "It's Edward when we are alone, Isabella," he replies as he rights himself and comes around my desk. I turn, and he reaches out and pulls me gently from my chair and pulls me close. As a natural reaction, I wrap my arms around his slim waist.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion," he says into my hair, "but I couldn't wait to see you."

He pulls back and kisses me lightly on the lips. I return the kiss and smile.

"I was late this morning," I confess. "Late night."

"I wish I was part of your late night, Isabella," he teases as he strokes my cheek. "I actually came to see if you would like to spend lunch with me, but I can see you have plans already."

His tone is one of disappointment. I suddenly feel guilty about making plans with Nessie. Though I would love to, I know I can't break the lunch date off without sending a red flag in the air. I never, ever cancelled a lunch date with Nessie.

"I'm sorry," I say. I reach my lips to his and I can feel his smile.

"Me, too. We could have dinner at my place tonight. I could pick you up around eight?" he whispers in my ear.

I place my hands on his chest and sigh. His suit is soft-and expensive-under my touch. I can sense that he is waiting for an answer, so I bite my lip and nod. After all, we are dating now. It would be odd not to and call it a relationship.

"Alright, eight," I say, looking at him. "Dinner, your place."

He smiles wickedly and puts his hands on my slim waist, pulling me tight against him. I can feel him-_all of him_-as he bends down to kiss the bare skin at my neck. It tickles, so I laugh.

He pulls away and frowns as he releases me. "I have a meeting in five minutes, Isabella. We can continue this little side-meeting tonight."

I reach to stroke his face and he smiles again. "Go get em' tiger," I say playfully.

He kisses me softly on the cheek, turns and disappears through the door to my office. Only when he is gone do I remember the envelope I found on my desk. I meant to ask him about it, but it was too late now. I stare at the door for a few minutes, and then sit down and get back to work.

Dinner at Edward's. If his house was anything like his suits, expensive and top quality, then it should make for an interesting dinner. Alone at Edwards…part of me knew this was going to be a late night…and this time, Edward would be apart of it.

-/-

"You promised!" Nessie wails into her napkin. "That is not fair!"

We are sitting around my desk eating lunch, and having a discussion about why I won't let her in on the 'juicy secret' I offered to tell her if she helped me with my paperwork.

"I said if you _helped _me, I would tell you," I reply, drizzling Ranch dressing onto my garden salad. "You didn't help, so you don't get the privilege of knowing."

"How long have I been your best friend, Bella? God, I think you'd have more respect!" she whines as she stuffs her mouth with apple slices.

"You have been my friend since working with me for Mr. Aro. As much of a thankless job that was, you were my number one bitch," I tease her. "But, really, let's drop this subject. You're never going to know."

"Bitch," she says playfully. "Those were the crappy days, huh? Remember the stupid motto?"

"'_The advanced age waits for no man'_," I scoff. "What the hell does that even mean?"

Nessie laughs and shrugs. Nessie and I had worked at Aro Future Connections together for several years. Nessie transferred here while all the embezzlement surrounding Jake started to die down. Nessie strongly believed in Jake's guilt, and had let me know on several occasions.

"_It is just too coincidental." _She had said.

"Old widow's peak probably made it up himself. You know how that guy took credit for everything," Nessie said.

All the workers called Aro Denali, the owner and CEO, 'widow's peak' after his elongated hairline. Mr. Aro was not a mean man, but he often took ideas and points from people and claimed them as his own. Rarely did he even bother to show up and check in on his employees. Mr. Aro did not believe Jake was innocent, either. After the embezzlement was uncovered, he immediately suspected Jake and let him know about it.

"I still think he was messing with the accounts, Ness," I tell her, shoving a small carrot in my mouth. "It's too odd. He never bothered to check the books? What kind of boss does that?"

Nessie rolls her eyes. Every time we brought up the 'crappy days' of working there, it always went to the same conversation points. I couldn't help it. It was too…_peculiar_. I thought Mr. Aro had something to do with his own books being tilled from the start. Nobody else, not even the police, felt the same about it. After a while, I shut up and kept it to myself.

"Bella, not this again! He was cleared. Anyway, why would he do that to his own company? It wouldn't make any sense! He'd be ripping himself off," Nessie voiced, taking a sip from her water bottle.

"He had brothers, didn't he? Demetri and Riley. He could have been hiding money from them. Like a family dispute type of thing…" I theorize aloud.

Ness hesitates, and then shakes her head.

"Bella, you want to clear Jake's name so bad, that you are willing to rub someone else's name in the mud. That's not fair, and you have no proof," she says softly. "Jake stole the money. He's the only one who could have."

"You don't have any proof of that, either, Ness."

"And you have no proof that he _didn't_, Bella. Look, Jake is gone, now. You have to move on."

I debate mentally about telling her that I plan to review Jake's police records and reports, then change my mind. She would just do what Edward did and try to talk me out of it. I had to see if there was anything in those files that could point to clearing his name. Sure, it was a long shot…a regarded hope, but there was a chance, and that was good enough for me. Instead, I look at the watch on my wrist.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, throwing her trash in the can beside my desk. "I'm going. Man, you should see the appointments I had to make for old frigid…he has a business trip coming up in a week, and he has to get all his appointments in by the weekend," she tells me, standing and walking to the door. "Bye, bitch."

"Bye, bitch," I repeat and smile as she disappears.

As soon I close my office door, my cell phone rings. Picking up the pink phone from my jacket pocket, I look at the caller ID and smile.

"Hi, dad," I say as the phone is placed at my ear. "Thanks for calling me back."

"Isabella," he starts from the other end of the phone. "What are you up to?"

I am taken aback by his blunt direction, but I giggle and sigh.

That is my dad. He knows me too well. He knows when I'm sucking up or when I am wanting information. I hear him sigh deeply as the phone muffles slightly against my mouth. I hesitate pressing him for the files, but my curiosity burns more than my embarrassment.

"Well," I try the sweet approach first. "I know you have access to files, and I know you can copy them…" I say, swinging around in my chair to face the vast glass windows in my office. It is starting to rain again, and my mood sours instantly. I watch the beads fall down the cool glass as I wait for my father's answer. It feels like minutes before he answers me finally.

"Absolutely not, Bella," he says simply.

I turn from the window and close my eyes. I knew he was going to say this, but the blow is still excruciatingly painful.

"Why not? Jake was my boyfriend, dad. I was actually _involved _in this, you know," I tell him, making it a point to raise my voice slightly. "I have every right."

He immediately answers; his voice is icy as he rips the words across the phone, "You are _not_ involved in this, Isabella Swan! You never were. Jacob's files are none of your business! What do you plan to accomplish by looking at them, Bells? Dig up old memories? Find some kind of sick _comfort_?" he asks sharply. "I've seen those files. You don't want to know what is in them."

I take a moment to calm myself. "I want to see them," I insist. "I _have_ to see them."

"I'm afraid of what you'll do when you do see them," he almost whispers. "If this is what you insist on-and it is purely against my better judgment-then I know someone who may be able to help you," he finishes.

I can hear him shuffle around his desk; a rolodex is being turned in the background. I know he is going to give me some type of information, so I reach for a blue pen lying on the oak finish and reach for a tablet. A moment later, he comes back onto the phone.

"Strictly speaking," he says to me, his voice filled with disapproval, "this is a conflict of interest because you are my daughter. He is a hard-ass, so this should be interesting. The lead detective on that particular case was Embry Quil. He has a nose for vulnerabilities, so be careful, Bells."

He rattles off his number and I jot it down quickly, tearing the paper from the tablet and shoving it into my jacket pocket. I thank him and hang up, placing the cell phone on the desk and reaching for my office phone. If I made the call from work, Detective Quil may be more lenient to let me take a look. I wasn't exactly sold on how I was going to let him reopen the files for me, but a woman could work some magic, right?

I dial the number given by my dad and wait as the receptionist who answered to transfer me. After a few minutes of really bad elevator music on the other end, a sullen, tight voice answers.

"Detective Embry Quill, Forks Police Department," he says tiredly, as if he has done it way to long. "Can I help you?"

"Detective Quill," I start, my voice echoing professionalism. "My name is Isabella Swan."

"Charlie's daughter?" he asks, interrupting me.

"Yes. I was wondering if you could help me with something…About six months ago, your police department launched an investigation into some trouble with Jacob Black and Aro Technologies?"

There was a pause. Then, "Yes, you mean the embezzling investigation? Sure, why?"

"I was wondering if I could view those files? I know you closed the-" I was interrupted by a chuckle on the other end. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Swan, but those files are sealed. You can't view them even if I had them, which I don't," he replies, his voice sounding apologetic. "At least not in paper form."

"Sealed?" I question.

"Yeah, sealed. Meaning we have to go through an entire process to reopen them, if permission is even granted. I wouldn't hold my breath on it being reopened, though. Is there something specific you wanted to know?" He asks.

I hesitate. Telling this detective I wanted to view the files in search of proof of Jake's innocence seemed like a bad idea. On the other hand, I wanted to clear Jake's name and prove to everyone they are wrong. I sigh, and then decide that maybe he has some information for me that is useful and not some mundane statistics, like his birth date.

"I'm…I was wondering if you could tell me if there was anything that maybe wasn't right…wasn't in line with the facts," I ask, watching the door to my office as people walked past. Automatically, I lower my voice. "Suspicious."

Detective Quil hums quizzically, the sound in his throat bordering on annoying. He clicks his tongue and sighs.

"No, can't say I can. I remember there being someone who collaborated his embezzlement, though. Someone had called my office anonymously, and said that they had proof he was cutting people short," he says.

I gasp at this revelation. I never heard this bit of news before. Obviously, Detective Quil hears my sharp inhale of air and his curiosity is immediately peaked.

"You had no idea?"

"No! Is that all they said? There wasn't anything else?" I bite my lip nervously.

There was a moment of silence.

"You know what, I have some copies of some of the files in the computer system. If you come by this evening, I can print them out for you and you can take them," he offers suddenly.

I am suspicious of this sudden offer, but I am too desperate to see them to decline. I know I have a date with Edward tonight, but I would just have to make time. Suddenly, as I remember that I am in Portland, and the files are in Forks, my heart sinks.

"I can't make it. I'm in Portland, now. The commute is too long," I pout uncontrollably.

"Alright, well, I can fax what I find to if you have a fax number," he suggests. "It would probably be quicker."

I drag my eyes over to the corner of my office where my cobweb infested fax machine lurks. I don't use it much, if at all. It has been there since I first came here. It probably was out of toner, and there was definitely no paper.

"Sure," I tell him, a smile on my face.

I give him the number and he agrees to send them tonight before we hang up. I sit back at my desk and my mind races.

Somebody had contacted the detectives who were investigating the embezzlement with new information? Who was this anonymous source, and what the hell kind of information did they have on Jake? This wasn't something I had heard before. Jake never mentioned this to me, and either did the investigators who had come to talk to me about it, in which Detective Quill wasn't apart.

I don't know how long I sat in silence before I heard him calling softly from the doorway of my office. I look up at him and he is just how I remember him. His eyes are brown and deep, and his hair is a matching shade of chocolate. He is still skinny, but his skin has cleared up and he seems a little taller, as well.

"Mike," I greet him, standing and motioning him into my office. "I heard that you were around! I didn't know you still did audits," I say as I smile and he shakes my hand and returns the smile. "What brings you back here? I though you were done?"

"Oh, I am, but Mr. Cullen requested another meeting for this afternoon. I thought I would come by and see how you were doing. It's been so long, Bella," he smiles, casting a small cascade of dimples on either side of his mouth. "Also, I would like to apologize for what I told Mr. Cullen. I thought he already knew."

I smile, but deep inside of me I am cursing at him. I shrug half-heartedly and extenuate my nonchalant demeanor. I try to tell myself that it isn't his fault, that it would have come out eventually.

"Of course," I thrust out. "No harm done."

He flashes a relieved smile and leans against my desk. I stare at him, mainly trying to contain the indignation that wants to erupt from my throat. He seems oblivious to my icy stare as he continues on, unwarranted and unwanted.

"I…I never got to tell you that I'm sorry about Jacob," he states as he tries to avoid my gaze. "I wanted to tell you at his funeral, but you…you didn't seem to be in the shape for the likes of me."

"No, really, Mike. Thank you," I tell him. "I understand."

"Jacob proclaimed his innocence, Bella," Mike continues without hesitation. "Part of me wants to believe it because of you."

"But you don't," I finish for him, my tone so thick it could choke us both.

"No," he concedes. "I looked at those books myself, Bella. He was the only one remotely imbedded in them."

He looks at me now, his face slightly meshed with guilt. "I'm sorry."

"You were the one doing the books at the time, Michael. Why didn't you catch it sooner, then?" I ask, not for the first time.

"Because Jake was a good track eraser, Bella. This is not something you want to be in."

"Be in what-?" I get out before being interrupted by a loud voice at my office door.

Edward is standing at the door, his eyes fixed on mine, seemingly taking in the scene before him. His eyes momentarily dart to Mike, and then back to me again.

"I'm ready for you, Mr. Newton," Edward says loudly. "Is there some matter you have with Ms. Swan?" He motions toward me and Mike shakes his head.

"No, Mr. Cullen. Just came by to say hello," Mike says, turning from me and heading toward Edward. "Nice to see you again, Bella," he adds, turning to me and then disappearing from my office.

Edward turns and shuts my office door behind him softly, then turns to me, his onyx eyes soft. He walks to me slowly and reaches for my wrist, pulling it up so that I lean into his warm, soft body. He looks down at me and smiles slightly.

"I thought you didn't know him?" he calls me out on my blunder.

"I didn't want to remember him," I confess. "Anything to do with Aro's should be forgotten."

"Are you alright?" he asks. "You look pale," he comments, pressing his hand to my cheek.

I nod and wrap my free hand around his waist. "Fine, Edward. Mr. Newton just came by to say he was sorry to hear about Jake's death."

"I'm sorry," he replies, and I feel his nose in my hair. "I can take care of it if you want."

I mull his offer over briefly, and then chuckle as I shake my head.

"No, he was just being polite," I say, looking up at his luminous eyes.

He smiles and then reaches his lips softly to mine.

"Fine, _this time_," Edward warns, letting me go.

I step back and I can see something white flitter to the floor, and Edward bends to pick it up. He smiles mischievously at me, and then opens the folded paper. I watch in slow motion as the smile drops off his face and his eyes become hard and passive.

"What is it Edward?" I ask.

But in the rainy light of the windows behind me, I can see through the paper and my heart drops. Edward holds up the paper like it has a plaque and his face goes crimson.

"What the _fuck_ is this, Isabella?" he demands, shaking the paper at me.

Even though I know what is on the paper, I take it and sigh. Written with the blue pen from my desk, on the white lined paper was the note:

_EMBRY QUILL_

_555-431-9834_

I take one look at his enraged face and know that I cannot lie to him. No matter what happens, I can not lie to him and make him think of me as some hussy from Forks, Washington. I take a deep breath, and then speak.

"He's a detective with the Forks police. I inquired about reopening Jacob's files," I tell him.

"You went behind my back, Isabella?" he shouts loudly. I flinch away as he balls the paper up and throws it across the room. "Do you have any idea how _stupid_ this is? How _dangerous_ it could be?"

"I can take care of myself, Edward!" I insist, crossing my arms in defiance.

"Really? You got yourself out of that shit, and you want to dive back in?" he growls angrily. "Absolutely not, Isabella!"

"You can't stop me, Edward. I have to know if there was anything-"

But he interrupts me by reaching out and covering my mouth lightly with his hand. His eyes ablaze, he reaches down and digs his fingers into my waist, pulling me roughly against him in one quick move.

"I _can_ stop you, Isabella, and if I have to, I _will_," he threatens lowly in my ear. "Play with me, Isabella. I win, _always_."

"I _have_ to know," I reiterate almost pleadingly as my eyes find the soft skin on his neck. I breathe out sharply on purpose, hoping the sensation cools him down some.

"Goddamn it, Bella! Why are you so stubborn?" he asks softly, kissing my earlobe. I hear him sigh, and then feel his warm lips on my neck. "Promise me that this is all you are going to do? Look at files?"

I pull back from him and my eyes find his. They are serious and pointedly narrow.

"I promise," I tell him.

I was not completely sold that I would be truthful to him, but I knew he would not give up until I agreed. He looks down at his watch and frowns. Looking back at me, the familiar smile returns.

"When are they expecting you in Forks?" Edward asks, letting me go all but my wrist.

I shake my head. "I told them I couldn't make it. Forks is three hours away, and I knew that I had a date with you tonight-" I answer.

Edward holds up a hand and stops me as I try to plow on through my excuse. I look at him oddly as he walks over across the room, retrieves the wadded up paper, and smoothes it out. He pulls a cell phone from his pocket and dials Detective Quill's number. I watch in exasperated breaths as he tells the detective that we will be there tonight, after all. He closes his cell phone and smiles at me.

"There. I think I am more than capable of driving you to Forks to meet with the Detective," he says as he throws the paper onto the desk and walks to my office door. "That way I can keep an eye on you…make sure you read his files and _that's it_."

"But Forks is-"

"Three hours away, Isabella. There is plenty of time for our date later in the evening. I have to go, darling. Newton won't wait forever, and people will think we are having _sex _in here after a bit," he smirks, reaching for the knob.

"If only…" he trails off, opening the door and disappearing through it a moment later.

I stare open-mouthed at the door a moment, then my brain starts to kick in. Mike had said _'this is not something you want to be in'_. _Be in what? _What did he mean by that? He used the present tense instead of the past tense. Also, the Detective had said someone called in without using a name, and collaborated that Jake was guilty. When I asked if that was all, he had suggested I come take a look at some of the backup copies on the computer. What the hell was the relevance in all this?

A part of me wants to believe that viewing the files on Jake would settle his guilt or innocence, but most of me believes that I would leave Forks with more questions then answers. Had Jacob told someone else what really happened? Had he spilled information before he killed himself? If so, to whom? And why was Jacob framed?

I sat down at my desk and stared at the manila folders for a few minutes. Finally, after realizing that nothing more would be done this afternoon, I shove them aside and stare out of the rain soaked panes of glass that frame my office. Off in the distance, a crow lands on a tree branch, and droplets of rain cascades to the dark, slick road below. I watch as the bird flies away immediately and hides behind a large rock in the earth.

_Hid._

_Hide._

_Hiding._

I knew two things for sure before I even dashed a pupil on those files.

First, Mike Newton knew _more _than he was telling me.

Second, the files would only be the very _beginning;_ there would be more winding truths to unveil.

The only thing stopping me from finding out what really happened to Jacob and proving him to be an honest man was Edward. Protective Edward…

_Protective, naïve Edward…_

-REVIEWS ARE LOVE / SEE YOU NEXT WEEK-


	6. Chapter 5: Burns to Ash

*I really hope you like this chapter...I made it nice and long for you!

*Pardon any mistakes.

*Please provide feedback..it is important to keep me going...thank you :)

* * *

[Chapter Five]

[The Fire Burns and turns to ash]

[Edward:]

My fingers follow my eyes as I scan the application. This is not the first time I bothered to extract it from the rusty brown file cabinet behind me. I near the bottom of the application and trepidation hits me as I find what I was searching for.

"And you're _sure_?" Mike asks me, leaning forward to get a peek of the form in my hands. "I mean, you are absolutely-"

I cut him off with a sharp, antagonistic look. He fidgets under my direct glare and then nods. I hand him the application in my hands along with a white sealed envelope. He takes them into his slightly shaking hands and frowns. He can sense I am not done with this meeting, much to his chagrin.

"I _know _what I am doing," I assure him vehemently. "I trust you can do this for me?" I ask him, my lips pursing in cautiousness.

Mike's Adam's Apple bobs, but he nods. He reaches down beside him and I can hear the snap of his briefcase as he opens it, stuffs his newly acquired paperwork into it, and closes it. He straightens up and waits for me to speak again. I like it when he obeys me. Such a shame that this is the circumstance is which he has to do it.

"You should probably keep going with this audit story if you plan to be around here in the future," I tell him, making sure he gets my point.

He does.

"What you're asking me to do requires me to be here during work hours," he replies. "But I'm sure I can avoid most people. I regret visiting Bella this afternoon…that was a slip up," he admits as he wipes his forehead of sweat.

I smile slightly. I'm glad he realizes that this is something that simply cannot happen again.

"Her name is Ms. Swan to you, and yes, you're right, it was a terrible slip," I agree. "But it's fine. I fixed it."

He hesitates a minute, and I can sense that he wants to say more.

"Tell me what is on your mind, Mr. Newton," I prod him.

"Do you think this is really safe to be doing? I mean, why do you think I stayed _silent_? Kept my mouth _shut_?" Newton replies.

"But you told _me_ yesterday, now didn't you?" I remind him.

"You _overheard_ me, Mr. Cullen. I didn't _tell _you anything," he says sharply. He lowers his voice and says, "If she finds out…"

"She won't. I want you to trail her from a distance. She moves, you move. She breathes, you breathe. I am paying you good money to do this," I point to his briefcase and the white envelope held inside. "You should have done this from the start, when she was at Aro's."

"I really hope for not only my sake, but yours as well, that she never figures this out. She's not who we all think she is," Mike tells me, standing and reaching for his briefcase. "I really do."

With that, Mike turned and exited my office, not bothering to shut the door behind him. I sat back in my chair and reached my hands under my chin. Strictly speaking, he was right. She was not who I thought she was when I hired her. Loyalties and beauty had fooled me; her insatiable character and charm when I interviewed her had been one of the highlights and reasons why I let her come to my company. Aro's was a great working environment, and there was no indication that there was ever anything like this to be concerned about.

I sigh and reach for my office phone. Dialing the extension, I wait for the voice to come on the other end. After a moment of silence, I hear it.

"Isabella," I say quickly before she has a chance to speak. "I'll be by your office after work. We can leave from here."

She agrees, and I smile.

"See you then, darling," I tell her, hanging up the phone.

I turn and squeeze my eyes shut. I feel guilty, and there is no way to channel it. I can only hope that when she finds out, she will forgive me for this, and forgive me for all the things I will do.

I am naïve. But I am a _smart _naïve.

I hope she will eventually see it that way, too.

-/-

I check my watch an hour later as I exit my office. Everyone, I note as I pass, has gone home for the day. I approach Isabella's office and knock lightly.

"Just a second," I hear faintly through the thick door.

I lean against the wall and wait for her to appear. Several minutes later, Bella steps out dressed differently then she had been this afternoon. She is wearing a red T-shirt and tight black jeans that she finishes off with black Vans. Her hair, though it was dry, looks and smells as if she had added hairspray to tame the curls at the bangs.

"Sorry for making you wait," she apologizes as I pull her into a hug.

Now that everyone was assuredly gone, there was no need to hide behind her office door or mine. Though I really could give a rough shit less if anyone knew or found out, it was just a lot easier if they didn't know. There would be some idiotic moron accusing me of biased work conditions because she was my girlfriend, not to mention someone would call a 'conflict of interest' or 'code of conduct' card. Assholes today could never mind their own business.

"It was worth it," I comment, giving her hair a sniff as she puts on her down filled coat.

_Fucking lilies. I love lilies._

"'_Casual Fridays' _attire has come in handy after all," she smiles at me once my eyes focus on her again. She twines her hand around my waist and bends up to press her soft, warm lips to mine.

I can feel her against me, the contours of her thin body pressing into me like Playdoh on a newspaper comic. Her hips shift slightly as her hands reach from my waist to around my neck. I feel the shift in my groin-_my increasingly hard groin_-and stifle a moan. My hands trail down the thin material of her tight jeans, floating like a ghost over her small, slender hips. I rest my hands there and open my mouth to taste her.

Automatically, her lips part for me and my tongue dives inside. Her warm hands splay out on my back, and a small moan issues from her. The warmth of the inside of her mouth engulfs my entire body; tingling downward to my toes. I pull her harder against me, wanting friction as my pants seem to be shrinking right as I am wearing them.

"Isabella," I call hesitantly, pulling away from her and stopping the kiss. I lean my forehead against hers and sigh. Her brown eyes are quizzical, but she can only pant. "Bella, we have to go if we are going to make it to Forks tonight," I tell her, mentally kicking my ass for my impromptu and impatient desire.

I let my hands go from her hips slowly and pull my hand up to her chin and lift it. Her soft eyes mimic my own feelings, and I can't help but smile. My fingers softly touch her lips and my mouth nears her ear.

"We have time after our visit to Forks, Isabella," I tell her softly. "Do not despair."

I pull back to study her face once more, pressing her lips to mine before I take her hand and lead her from the offices above to the parking lot outside. From the glass windows lining the building, I can see that it is just getting dusk. The parking lot, not unexpectedly, is mostly vacant, save my Coupe and Isabella's Mazda.

"My car," Bella points out as we turn to the double Plexiglas doors that lead to the outside. "We can take my car."

I open the door for her, turn to the number pad once the door closes firmly behind us, and press in the security code. Turning back to Bella, I smile and shake my head.

"No," I tell her, watching as the hurt flickers in her eyes. "We take _my_ car. I need a way to work in the morning," I say, lining every single word with amused vibrato.

Bella's eyes narrow as we come to my small black Coupe in a parking spot near the front doors. She says nothing as I open the door, settle her in and come around to enter the car on my own. I look over at her as I place my seatbelt, and she looks as if she wants to say something.

"How am I supposed to get to work, Edward?" she finally asks, motioning toward the building in front of us and frowning. "Nessie comes in before I do, or I could hitch a ride from her. Plus, she will wonder where my car is…" Bella trails off, her frown deepening.

"Isabella, I am anticipating that you will be with me when I pull back into this driveway in the morning. Cocky? Yes, perhaps I am. But, Isabella, if you come home with me, you're staying the entire night," I told her, backing out of the parking lot and heading southward toward Forks, Washington. "Call it a beneficial car pool."

She looks as if she wants to say something about it, but refrains. Instead, she turns her attention to the tree lined road outside the car window. I have a feeling that her mind is not in the present, but the past and what she might learn about that past in those files that await us in Forks. After twenty minutes of silence, I can no longer stand it, so I break the calm.

"Why is this so important to you, Isabella?" I ask her, tapping the steering wheel in habit.

"Why is what so important? Looking at the files?" She asks, her face finally turning to me.

I glance at her sideways from the corner of my eyes, and I can see traces of pain and uncertainty. I am guessing that whatever she was thinking of wasn't a pleasant memory or an easy one to think about. She stares at me as I shrug lightly. Her features become softer, and the unrevealed thoughts seem to drain away from her.

"That, yes," I confirm. "But why are you so into clearing his name, Isabella? He didn't even give you the dignity of telling you what really happened if it wasn't him," I say, motioning with my hand as if an invisible file lay on the dash.

She scoffs and shakes her head, returning her gaze to the open road outside of the moving car. I wait for her to answer, sure she is trying to justify this, herself. On cue, she turns to me and frowns.

"You told me at dinner last night that we sacrifice for what we want or need," she repeats my words back to me. "Something tells me this is what I want and need to do. He was trying to protect me, Edward. How many people would do that?"

"I was speaking of wine, Isabella, not looking into files that will only bring pain to you," I reply softly, watching as the trees flash by the windshield. "I would protect you, always."

"What if there is a chance that he is innocent? Would you never seek out that little bit of hope to help clear his name knowing that if you did, you would figure out that when you told people he didn't do it you were right? That because you cared enough to look everywhere for something that cleared him, you found peace?" she replies, her voice soft and low.

"Hope only appears to people who can't accept things the way they are, Isabella," I tell her honestly. "What you have told me about him doesn't make him sound like the good party, here."

She turns her head sharply and narrows her eyes. I can sense anger emanating from her, and I am not surprised when she speaks.

"You didn't even know him, Edward! You only know what I told you! You are like everyone else who knows about Jake. They, too, judge him so cruelly! You have no idea what he went through! What ever happened to the statement, "innocent until proven guilty"?" she roars angrily.

I judge my next words carefully, taking care to say them as softly as possible.

"If you are so sure of his innocence, there are others who are just as sure of his guilt," I say. "And some of those people may not like you snooping in files and stirring up the dormant."

"Are you saying you think people might want to shut me up? Make me stay away from anything having to do with the embezzlement?" she asks, surprised.

"What I am saying, Bella, is that you dragging out all of this…going through files, telling anyone who will listen your theories…you are opening yourself up to risks."

"So, that is exactly what you think? That people, if Jake is innocent, which he is, will want to keep it under wraps? That there is some kind of _cover up_?" she replies indignantly.

"I am just trying to open your eyes to the risks of doing what you are doing, that's all. I would always try to protect you, Isabella. Both when your at work, and in private. You have to meet me halfway here. Running to Forks to view files on your accused embezzling ex is not wise," I tell her. I know she doesn't want to hear this next part, but it has been eating at me way too long. "Are you disclosing everything you know about Jacob and what happened up until his death?"

There was silence, then. I look over to her and she is looking down at her lap, her bottom lip firmly trapped between her teeth. I know then that she has not been as forthcoming as I thought. I did not think she was lying to me, I just had a nagging suspicion that she was leaving things out; letting part of her story silent.

"You don't have to explain it to me if it's something you rather not share," I tell her, feeling a bit guilty that I brought it up when she was so vulnerable. "I want you to want to share with me. I'm sorry if you feel like I am calling you a liar. That is further from the truth."

"Why are you so interested in my safety all of a sudden, Edward?" she asks, avoiding answering my question. "You went from insisting on driving me to Forks to view the files, to talking about risks and protecting me," she finishes, her eyes finding the side of my face as I drove on. "Are _you_ disclosing everything _you_ know?"

"What would _I _know about all of this, Bella? There is nothing definite." I leave that hang in the air between us. "But regardless, so long as I breathe this air and my feet touch this ground, I'll do what needs to be done to see you are safe."

We are an hour out of Portland now, and the snow begins to fall in squalls as the darkness replaces the light. Isabella has not said a word since my proclamation that I would protect her. The only sound in the car, now, is the slight, shallow breathing slipping from between her soft lips. She is watching the light snow blow across the road, her attention somewhere else completely.

I reach my hand down and turn the heater on, sliding it over so that it hit her side of the car. She looks at me then as my eyes go back to the snow covered road.

"Did you think I would let you freeze?" I ask, watching from the corner of my eye as she smiles slightly.

"No," she replies. "That would go against keeping me safe…can't have me freeze to death," she mocks.

"There are other ways to warm you up, Isabella," I retort.

"You are just _way _too confident," she tells me. "We are lucky to make it to Forks, let alone your place in this snow," she points outside the window at the falling precipitation.

I grunt my agreement.

"Edward?" she calls softly.

"Yes, Isabella?"

"There _is_ something I'm leaving out about this whole thing," she says as she turns her slim body in the seat so she is facing me.

"I know," is my reply.

"When I said that Jacob was dead when I arrived to his apartment that night?" she starts off.

I immediately know that what she is going to tell me is more than I could have imagined she was hiding from me. I slow the car down (there are no cars coming), and glance at her every few seconds. Finally, out of impatience and curiosity, I demand her to continue.

"Well, that is _partly_ true," she continues. Her voice changes, and she sounds as if she really rather not tell me. "When I got there, Jacob was alive and well."

I was going to interject her, but she hastily continued.

"I was there for a while, I don't know-fifteen minutes?" she shrugs. "He was normal acting…I didn't think there was anything the matter. I was sitting on the couch with him, when a knock on the door to his apartment came."

"Did he answer it?" I ask, knowing the answer already.

"Yeah, he did. He hesitated, and then answered it. He wasn't at the door long. He opened it a crack and spoke to the person on the other side. He looked at me and then shut the door and then he came back and sat down as if things were normal," she confesses, the quiver in her voice the only sign of emotion she shows. "It was odd."

"So why did you leave him there if you thought it was odd?"

"Because he told me someone was coming by and that I could come back later if I wanted." Bella clears her throat. "And Jake was always paranoid…always having visitors and neighbors checking in on him all the time. So, I left him for about an hour, came back and that is when I found him on the floor," she says. "I run over and kneel down, but he's gone."

I can hear her sniffle as she wipes her hand across her nose. She hadn't lied, but instead left a vital part out of the equation. I keep my eyes on the road but sigh deeply.

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Did you even _tell _anyone else about someone coming to the door before you found him?" I reach my hand to her knee and squeeze it. Her eyes widen, but she shakes her head sadly.

"What good would it have done? Someone coming to the door isn't all that unusual, Edward. I couldn't really give them any details, because I didn't see the person. I only know it was the voice of a female," she puffs out, her voice thick with tears.

My attention is instantly peeked. I remove my hand from her knee and press a finger to my lips in thought. The sign, 'Welcome to Forks', was in our sight. Quietly we pass into Forks, where the snow is pounding down around us.

"Are you angry that I didn't tell you that?" she finally asks. "I don't think it's important. Anyway, I only focus on the bad part of it…the missing Jake part," she sighs.

I don't answer her as I finally pull into the Forks Police Department parking lot. The snow is blowing outside, and it is almost too thick to see clearly. I park, get out, and climb around the car to help Isabella. She opens the door and I grab her hand and pull her out softly. She nearly slips, but I latch onto her elbow and hold onto her.

"Thank you," she replies softly straightening and following me as I crunch through the snow and up the stairs.

Bella opens the door to the office, and we slip in, the snow trekking in along with us. It is warm in the station, so we take off our coats and hang them on the hooks sitting right inside the door. Finally, when Bella finally kicks snow from her shoes, she approaches the large oak counter in which a uniformed officer is seated reading a magazine. She smiles, and the officer smiles back.

"Bella Swan," he says standing and reaching his hand out to her. "Long time, no see."

I watch as Isabella smiles and takes his hand in hers. "Officer Yorkie," she acknowledges.

"I haven't seen you in, what? A year?" he asks. "Are you here to see your dad?"

She smiles, but shakes her head and motions her head to me.

"I am here with my friend, Mr. Cullen," she explains to the friendly officer. "We are here to see Detective Quill."

Officer Yorkie extends his hand to me, and I smile politely and say, "I am Isabella's _boyfriend,_ Edward Cullen."

I make sure he knows that she is taken. He looks entirely too happy to see her. Officer Yorkie smiles and nods his head. He turns his attention back to Isabella and frowns slightly.

"Is Detective Quill expecting you? If he is, he didn't mention it…" the officer says. "Let me get him on the phone. You can wait here," he says, turning and disappearing through the swinging doors to the back of the station.

"I haven't seen him in ages," Bella says thoughtfully. "He looks different."

"You mean a little too friendly," I say bitterly.

Bella laughs and I take her hand in mine, squeezing her palm slightly. I look at the wet, glistening snow that is slowly melting in her hair and trail my gaze to her face. She bites her lip and squeezes my hand back.

"You make the snow worth falling just to sit in your hair, Isabella," I poetically tell her aloud. "You're dazzling. You dazzle me," I tell her, lifting our intertwined hands and brushing my cold finger along her warm lips.

"I dazzle you?" she replies in surprise. "Good to know."

Before I can reply, Officer Yorkie is back and brings his stupid smile with him. I feel jealous toward this man, and all he did was smile at her. I smile internally at the fact that this pretty woman was mine. Even though there was no ownership, per se, she was mine through and through.

"Everything seems fine. You can head through there," he pointed to a small door to the left of the counter. "The plaque tells you when you've found it. It's nice to finally see you again, Bella!"

He smiles, but I drag Bella to the door before she can respond. We walk along a small, compact hallway before we find his office at the end of the hall. I knock lightly.

"Come in, Ms. Swan," a voice instructs.

Bella opens the door and I follow behind. There is a young brown haired, olive skinned man sitting at a crowded desk, his eyes focusing on the computer that sits in front of him. He motions us to a chair, but makes no effort to stop what he is doing. After a moment, he looks up and smiles at us, his face wrinkles slightly, as if smiling is something he hardly ever does.

"You wanted to view the files on Mr. Black, correct?" he asks, pushing his chair back and reaching behind him to the whirling printer. "Well, all I have is a few pages from his interrogation and another page."

"Thank you, I'm sure it will be useful somehow," Bella says confidently as he hands her the printed pages.

"I'm really not certain you are going to find anything in them, they are pretty boring, actually, but feel free to look at them all you want," he assures her. "You are?" he says to me.

"Edward. Edward Cullen. I spoke to you on the phone?" I say, watching as he nods his head.

"Yes, that's right. Well, I'm not sure what you all are looking for, it's a pretty straight interrogation," he shrugs.

I watch Bella's eyes scan over the pages, her expression changing several times. I can only wonder what she is thinking and reading. I cannot see the pages from the angle she is holding them, but I get a sense of confusion and misunderstanding in it from reading Bella's face.

"Did you conduct this yourself?" Bella asks suddenly, holding up the inked pages.

Detective Quill nods. "Yes."

"But this isn't an interrogation transcript, Detective," she argues. "This isn't what I was talking about!"

Detective Quill looks confused. His brow furrows and he looks to me for help. I look from him to Bella, who is shaking her head rapidly.

"Bella, it's what you wanted to see. You wanted to see his files," I remind her.

She looks at me and whispers softly, "Read it."

I take the pages from her slightly trembling hands and begin to read. I am halfway down the first page; the crossing out and numerous corrections were there, and I begin to understand what Bella means. My eyes dart over the words, and somehow, for some reason, I am not surprised. My eyes raise to the detective, who is sitting stock still, his eyes impassive and his mouth set in a thin line.

"This isn't an interrogation, Detective," I tell him, sitting the papers on the desk and looking over at Bella who is barely able to control her emotions. "This is a confession statement."

Detective Quill looks confused at first, but that is slowly replaced with the look of apology. He sighs and leans forward, his elbows sliding forward on the oak.

"I wasn't aware that you didn't know," he says, looking at Bella. "We did interrogate him, and what you see is what he told us. Nothing less and nothing more."

"You mean he willingly confessed the short-changing and the embezzlement?" Bella asks sarcastically. "No fucking way."

The detective sharpens his gaze on her face and clears his throat. He reaches over and grasps the papers, lifting them up so he could read them. Finished, he looks at Bella and nods.

"It's exactly what he said, Ms. Swan," he said. "He signed it at the bottom, there." He pointed to the almost illegible signature at the bottom. "I'm assuming nobody, not even Mr. Black himself bothered to tell you he confessed?"

Bella shook her head in disbelief. I wanted to reach out to her, but did not. I knew exactly what she was thinking. She had come all this way, believed for so long that the person she had loved and trusted could actually, as many people asserted, be guilty. His confession was a surprise to her; she had come here with the expectation that she would find an interrogation full of accusations and denials, but instead found only lies and hopes shattered.

Jacob Black was a good liar. His confession meant guilt, didn't it? Meant that he was, in fact, lying to her and putting her in danger…It was all there in the files, wasn't it?

"Can you tell us anything else?" I ask, my own curiosity burning. "Anything that may be strange or different in the way he was acting?"

He thought a moment, his scruffy face screwing up in deep concentration. I reached over and touched my hand to Bella's, her face turned toward me, and all the things I had thought she was thinking reflected in the wetness of her eyes.

"Come to think of it," the detective starts vicariously, "he didn't come alone. Now, whether that is strange is a whole other thing. He came in here with a…I think it was a female. Brown hair, thin…" he trails off as if to try to remember more detail. "She didn't stay, though."

Bella sat forward in her chair and squinted her eyes. "A female? Jacob's family doesn't _live _around here, and he only had his father, Billy," she says assuredly. "Are you sure it was a _female_?"

The detective nods, and then points to the last page underneath the other pages on the desk in front of him.

"The other thing we talked about is there on that paper. You asked if there was anything else. Well, about three days before he confessed, this was found on my desk," he riffles through the papers and hands the last page to Bella.

I lean over to glance at the paper she is holding in her hands. I can only see a copy of some kind of envelope, and underneath, a short form. I lift my gaze slowly to Bella, who is beyond horrified. I cannot make out what the form is, I can only listen as Bella speaks slowly and aesthetically.

"Did you ask Jake about this?" Bella asks, looking from the page to Quill.

He nods. "That is his signature at the bottom, correct?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Yes," Bella replies softly. "It is."

"Could someone fill me in?" I say, frustration lining every word.

"Someone mailed this to me three days before Mr. Black confessed. It's an overseas account registration form in which Mr. Black deposited almost fifty thousand dollars into it," Quill tells me, sitting back in his chair and folding his fingers under his chin.

"Can it be authenticated? It could be-" I start to reason until Bella stops me suddenly.

"It's his signature, Edward," she says softly, a few tears falling from her pale cheeks and onto the paper. "It's his."

"The envelope…," Bella says. "It came from Forks. Whoever it was must have been from Forks," she noted. "The writing is so familiar. I can't place it," she scowls. "Why would Jake play these games with me? Why would he tell me he was innocent, but then have me tell my bosses about the embezzlement, and then just confess? It doesn't make any sense, Edward."

"I don't know, Isabella," I tell her gently, rubbing her back lightly in circles. "You have your theories, and you will have to live with them."

"Something smells bad here," she tells Quill. "You don't think it's weird to get this _three days _before his confession?"

Quill shakes his head. "In this line of work, you learn to expect the unexpected. The bottom line is, we called him in here, and he confessed completely. We would have brought charges, but…," he trails off, knowing the fate of Jacob before they could.

Bella looked at me and her eyes say everything that she could not. She didn't believe a word of this confession or the registration. Something did not add up, even to me. The police wanted to close the case, so they rather not think of it as being shady, but as outsiders, it was just too odd a story.

"I hope I answered some of your questions," Quill says as he stands and spreads his hands. "That is all I have."

Bella stands, takes a long look at the detectives hand, and then walks from the cluttered office. I reach over and shake his hand, exiting right behind her. She is lost in thought as I reach out to put my hand in hers. She is clutching the papers in her other hand so tight, that her knuckles are white in color.

"That's all bullshit," she tells me when we are far enough from the office that he can't hear her. "Something is wrong with all of it. At first, I thought he lied to me; made me defend him for nothing, but something just doesn't add up, Edward."

I sigh and say nothing. I knew it didn't add up, that was for sure. Bella, looking at her now, is not upset anymore, but even more determined. This is the last thing I wanted to happen from this visit. I hoped this would put things in perspective for her, but instead, it gave her more questions to hunt down and answer.

Who was this mysterious female that accompanied Jake during his confession? If Jacob signed the registration, why and who made him do it? Who had sent the envelope to Detective Quill? Just because it _came _from Forks did not mean that the person who sent it _lived _in Forks.

All this is racing through my own mind, so I could only guess what was happening in her brain. As we near the front doors to the station, and officer Yorkie smiles at us, I realize as I look out into the night that the snow is too thick and wet to drive in.

"Shit," I mutter, glancing at my Coupe, which now has a thick coating of ice and snow on it. "Isabella, I don't think we are going to make it back to Portland let alone my house," I tell her, turning to her and frowning.

"We could stay here," she suggests, motioning around the vacant lobby.

"Hell no, we aren't," I scoff. "Is there any hotels or inns around here?"

"There's the _Midnight Sun _about three blocks down," she starts. "But, Edward, it's really cold!"

I smile at her as she frowns. I can't help but pull her close and kiss her forehead.

"I can keep you really warm, Isabella. Besides, do you really want to stay here with Officer Doofy?" I whisper. Bella laughs.

"Guess not," she agrees.

I let her go and grab our coats, helping her get hers on.

Outside, the night sky is clear, but the snow still falls fast and furious. I grab Bella's hand and press her against me as we begin to walk in the direction of the hotel, the wind making her teeth chatter against my coat. Her lily perfume is swept up in the twirl, and I smile as the smell engulfs my nostrils. I am beginning to think this is a bad idea when finally, softly, Bella stutters out words.

"Do you think Jacob really did that alone?" she chatters.

"Do you think he did it to begin with, Isabella?" I return, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from her mouth.

She was silent for a minute. Nothing but the wind and the snow falling sounded, and I wasn't sure she would answer. Finally, very faintly, she answered.

"I don't know," she replies. "I still don't know."

"I was afraid of that," I tell her in honesty. "You will never learn."

"The signature was his, Edward. I'd know it anywhere! That's what is bothering me," she insists, holding onto my jacket as a strong gust blows snow our way. "How did it get there?"

I could not answer this for her, because I had no idea. We were a block away from the hotel now, and we became silent; each of us thinking of things that we could not say to the other. In my mind, there was a need to keep her safe. In order for me to assure her of this, I had to convince her to stop seeking anything about this case and let it be. I knew it would be easier said then done, but I had to somehow.

We came to the hotel a few minutes later, the exterior sticking out prominently in the middle of the block. The white columns protruded upward and stopped just shy of moldings at the top. The front was adorned with double glass doors and a small, innocuous touch-plate. The engraving on the stone façade reflected early nineteen hundreds.

I lead Bella through the double doors and into the lobby. The lobby, much like the outside, was mixed with columns and moldings, and the wallpaper was burgundy and tan stripes. The check-in counter was a large round desk in which a plump, middle-aged woman stood behind, her smile wide and her nametag crooked.

"Bella," I tell her, turning and smiling. "Could you check us in, I have to make a phone call."

I hand her my Visa card, and she smiles and nods. I watch as she flitters off to the counter, then turn and walk to the payphones in the lobby. This is a call that I cannot make on a public line. I pull out my cell phone and dial, my eyes on Bella just in case she came too close while I was on the phone. No fuck-ups.

After two rings, the other end picks up.

"I'm calling to confirm an appointment for next week in Brazil," I say to the person on the other end. "You said you booked it, is it still on?"

I wait for the answer and then say, "Good. I can't have Isabella wondering about it. I need you to make the flight private, and I don't plan to leave details to my whereabouts. She has no idea, and that is the plan."

After the voice assures me that it will be taken care of, I hang up and make another call. This time, Mike Newton picks up.

"Anything?" I ask immediately. He answers, and I am not happy.

"You _assured_ me you could do it! I am not paying you to sit around, Newton! Now is your chance. She's out of the city, so go _do_ it," I say, angrily shutting the phone and sticking it in my pocket.

I rejoin Bella, who is still standing at the counter.

"So then that is a double-bed room," the woman says, tapping away on the computer keyboard in front of her.

"No," I reply hastily. "That will be one _queen _size room."

Bella smiles embarrassedly at the woman who smiles and taps the changes into the computer. She hands back the card and wishes us a great stay with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"I'm sure this will be an _amazing _stay," I retort as we walk from the counter to our room.

"Well, that was embarrassing!" Bella whines as we get into the elevator.

"Really? That was embarrassing to you?" I tease.

"Yes. She thinks we are going to have _sex_, Edward!" Bella exclaims as the elevator moves.

I smile and reach over to the buttons and hit the stop button. I turn to her and advance, and she backs up until her back hits cool steel of the elevator's side. I bend my face inches from hers and chuckle at her expression.

"What are you doing?" she asks breathlessly.

"Showing you that I don't _need _a bed to have sex, Isabella," I say trailing my fingertips from her cheek, down her throat and to the top button of her coat. I take both her wrists in my other hand and handcuff her wrists to the cold metal of the elevator above her head. "You're alone…I'm alone…The bed is always _optional_," I say flicking the button open. "I like my sex like I like my coffee-ridiculously hot and on-the-go," I comment as my hand dives in her now open coat.

I hear her gasp before my mouth takes hers, effectively ending any protest she was about to put up.

Coffee wasn't coffee without the right amount of cream…and I had lots of that, too, to offer….

She mumbles softly as my hand finds one perfectly warm breast and cups her. I slowly, deliberately lift my mouth from hers and trail my tongue over the smooth silken skin over her neck. Her mumbles become soft moans as my lips lightly dip down to her collarbone. My hand rubs the hard nub of her breast delicately. She is like putty in my hands.

I suddenly extract my hand from her coat and my lips from her skin, and let her wrists fall from my grasp so that they fall lightly in front of her. Quizzically, she looks at me as I smile at her and fasten the button I undid. Her eyes question me as I fiddle with her button, making no haste to look at her. Finally she grows impatient.

"What the hell was _that _about?" she asks as I hit the button to make the elevator move once more.

"Proving to you that I, Edward Cullen, do not _need _a bed to fuck you, Isabella. Also, since we are on the subject, I also proved that I can _make _you want it, no matter _where _we are," I explain, watching the elevator numbers light up and fade as we hit each floor. "Call it a free preview."

She scoffs. "This is not HBO, Edward! You can't offer me the _trailer_ and not show me the whole _show_!"

I look over at her seriously and say, "Nobody said I would cancel the entire show, Isabella. Be patient. Now is not the time. Not when you are so vulnerable with all that you heard tonight. I _will not _take advantage of you in such a situation," I say, making sure she knows that I do want to continue sometime in the future.

The elevator dings and we exit, heading down a narrow hallway filled with doors. At the end of the carpeted white-wash hallway is our room, 107B. Bella slides the electronic key across the reader and the door swings open. Bella enters first, switching the light switch on and walking further into the room.

"There is only one bed," she murmurs, turning to me and pointing to the nicely made queen bed in the center of the room. "And I'm soaking wet."

My eyes scan her body meticulously. She was, indeed, very wet. Her pants were darkened on the bottom where the snow had clung, her shoes were white with the soft flakes, and I was sure she was cold, too. I mulled the situation over a moment, and then walked to the adjoining bathroom and flipped the switch, reaching over to take the soft white robe from behind the door.

"It's not much, but at least you will be dry," I tell her, handing the fluffy cloak to her and smiling. "And about the beds…I'll stay on _my_ side if you stay on _yours_," I tease.

She makes a soft groan, and my pants instantly tighten. She sighs, but walks past me, deposits her coat on the bed and shuts herself in the bathroom. Amused, I take off my jacket and place it on the chair next to a small wooden desk by the window. Bella is still upset by my actions in the elevator, actions that I do not regret. Claiming some kind of ownership on her body sent a thrill through me, but also made me realize my hunger for her could not hold on much longer. Had I continued, she would have found herself at my mercy. Sex while she was still reeling from whatever we found out tonight would potentially be disarming.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and thought a bit about this afternoon. Hearing the shower running from the bathroom, I leaned back and pressed the back of my head on the headboard. Although I suspected that Bella was right, that there was something amiss about all of that in those files, there was the matter of proof. There simply wasn't any. In fact, there was more proof that he _was_ guilty. I hadn't come to Forks blind of information; I knew some things that Bella did not, and it was better that she didn't.

Going to Brazil was not really a business trip…at least not any for _my _business. Brazil would hold more worth to Bella then she realized. I knew it wasn't possible to take her with me, or even let her know any other details, because this was something I had to do. I had to see things for myself. When Mike spilled everything, it made sense. Bella had no idea the things that were told to me. Now, next week in Brazil, I would meet with an old acquaintance…one that would provide me with some answers.

I heard the water being turned off, the sound of the curtain echoing in the silence of the room. A few minutes later, Bella opens the door and emerges wearing the cotton robe. The robe, though wrapped, comes just past her knees. Her eyes don't meet mine as she silently hops in bed beside me. I turn and smile at her.

"Even in an hotel robe, you still look amazing, Isabella," I say, watching as her eyes finally meet mine.

"The free preview is my knees. Everything else is part of the final show," she quips, pulling the covers over her body.

"When does the curtain go up?" I ask. "Or should I say gets thrown to the floor?"

"Enough with the sexual innuendoes, Edward. I'm vulnerable, remember?" she snaps, turning her head away from me.

For some unknown reason, this infuriates me. I reach out and pull her chin toward me, forcing her to look at me.

"Isabella," I say, closing my eyes and smirking. "Believe me, if I thought you were any less vulnerable, your robe would be on that damn floor _right now_, and you would be finding yourself on the ride of your _life_. This, although I wish it was, is not the time. Do you understand me?" I tell her this with such a serious tone that she is rendered speechless and can only nod. "Good," I finish.

I let go of her chin and stand. Wanting to take a shower, I take off my business jacket and place it with my jacket on the bed, Bella watching me closely as I did so. I reach for the buttons on my white cotton shirt and start to undo them.

"What are you doing?" Bella asks softly. "This is the only robe." She points to her body where the white robe is perched.

I smile and nod. "You're right. I don't plan on wearing one even if there was two," I explain, taking the shirt off and watching in amusement as her eyes flow over my broad chest.

"Oh," she said, her eyes glazing over as they continue to take my naked chest in. "But what are you going to sleep in?"

"Does my nakedness bother you? This is something I should know, Isabella," I muse, almost unable to control my chuckling.

"No," she replies after a minute, looking away now. "Just curious."

I laugh completely now. She flushes with crimson as her embarrassment shows on her face. I walk the small distance to the bed and lean over the mattress, my face inches from her own.

"Do not be embarrassed, Isabella. I was only teasing. I am going to take a shower, and when I emerge, I promise that I will be wearing something."

I bend and softly kiss her lips, making sure not to deepen it for fear of using the bed for more than just sleeping. I lift myself and head to the bathroom, discarding my shirt on the floor and shutting the door tightly.

I can smell the Lilies from Bella hovering in the air in the damp, warm bathroom. I inhale the smell as I unbuckle my black slacks and slide them down my thin legs. Carefully, I slide the black boxers down next and turn on the shower. I place the boxers on the toilet and finish showering, taking time to sniff the lilies out of the air every so often. Finally satisfied that I was clean enough, I step out of the shower and replace my boxers.

Being gentlemanly, I gave up the robe for Bella, so that left me to my boxers. I didn't really think much of it, but then there was a beautiful woman sitting in a bed right outside, robe on, and nothing underneath the robe. I looked to a small pile of Bella's clothes on the floor for confirmation. Her pants, shirt, bra and panties lay there on the white tile.

I dry my hair with the hand towel and open the bathroom door, shutting off the light and closing the door. When I walk back into the room, Bella is now sitting on the edge of the bed, her jacket strewn over her lap, and a red object in her hands.

"What is that?" I ask her, startling her as she jumps and presses the red to her chest.

She looks at me and takes in my body; her eyes flicker over my chest again and I can see them travel down slowly over my waist, her eyes finding the boxers. Her eyes flicker and return to mine. She smiles slightly and shakes her head.

"You should know," she says, placing the red object in her coat pocket and throwing the coat to the floor beside her.

Something in her voice and her face changed, though. Her expression had a nervousness that I couldn't trace. I narrow my eyes at her and shake my head in turn.

"Isabella," I tell her, walking over and sitting beside her. "What are you hiding?"

She bit her lip and shrugged. "Nothing."

My eyes flicker to the coat on the floor and her face. Her face is inches from mine, and my hand comes up to brush her cheek. I knew she was lying to me and trying to hide it. I watched as her hand came up and pressed on my naked chest. The touch sent a shiver of warmth down my body, and I lost my senses for a moment.

My other hand finds the bottom hem of her robe, ghosting up her outer hip and thigh. Her light moan makes it impossible for me to stop right away. My palm caresses her skins above her right hip as she says my name softly. I lean my face toward hers and my lips find her ear.

"Why are you lying to me, Isabella?" I punctuate that statement with a small kiss on her lobe.

"I'm…I'm not lying," she falters, her thinking clouded by the touching of her hip.

"Yes, you are," I imply, reaching my hand for the belt of her robe. "What are you hiding from me?"

I pull lightly on the robes belt, and her robe opens slightly, bits of pink flesh flashing from the slit in the robes.

"Edward," she moans, making no attempt to close the robe. "Please," she begs.

"Show me what you are hiding, first," I bargain.

She leans down awkwardly and retrieves her jacket, pulling the red back out of her coat pocket. I disengage my hand from her robe as she hands me a piece of paper. I look at the envelope, but there is nothing familiar or telling about it.

"What is this?" I ask, bending to kiss her lips.

"I thought it was from you," she replies, taking the letter from me.

The warmth of her skin on my hands makes it hard for me to concentrate. I am confused at this point.

"It's not from me, Isabella," I insist.

"What?" she blurts out surprised.

"It's not from me. I never seen that in my life. Where did you get it from?" I say, removing my hand from her body and pulling back as she flips the envelope.

"My desk at work. If it's not from you, then who is it from?"

I watch as she slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and opens it, pausing only to breath deeply. She pulls a single white piece of paper out of the envelope and reads it. Immediately, her face changes.

"What is it, Isabella?" I ask her, taking the paper from her hands.

Bella does not answer, instead, she looks at me as I look down at the paper. Written in black ink in the middle of the paper was five words:

_STAY AWAY FROM THE TRUTH_

"Who sent it?"

Bella shrugged, but then, "Whoever it was, they are the same one that sent the letter to the police about the registration of accounts."

"How do you know?" I asked her softly.

"Look at the envelope, Edward."

I picked up the envelope and stared at it. On the front, Isabella's name was written…in the very same ink, very same handwriting as the envelope that was sent to the police.

We were dealing with the same individual.

And they knew…

…knew all about Bella's desire to set Jacob's name free…

…And they wanted her out of the way of the truth…whatever the 'truth' was…


	7. Final Goodbye

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